


The Burning Mountain

by Kassykins



Series: Love? It's complicated [4]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: A love Story, Aftermath of trauma, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universes, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Humans have magic, More tags to be added, Multi, Mystery, Other, but it's not a good thing, but perhaps not the way you think, let's get back to the drama, mentions of child abuse, mentions of torture, plots and schemes, switching realities
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2020-05-14 03:30:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 64,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19265026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kassykins/pseuds/Kassykins
Summary: Every magician knows the tale of the burning mountain - when humanity started purging magic from the Earth, they sealed 'monsters' under a mountain before turning on their own magicians, leading to the worlds current miserable state of affairs. Hunted and murdered without a thought - that's still the fate that await's magicians like you when found. It's not even worth it, as the so-called magic of humanity is next to useless.None of it is right. None of it is fair.Just when you think you have this rotten world figured out, the carpet is pulled out from under you - the monsters are back. Actual, literal monsters, of all shapes and sizes, walking and talking and doing magic like it's nothing. But that's not even the weird part.The weird part is, no-one even seems to remember they were gone. Country borders, history books, entire social institutions have changed, and there's no-one left who remembers the way it was before, except for you and a fringe group who refer to themselves as 'recallers', determined to restore the world to how it 'should' be.As you get to know the monsters around you, though, you have to wonder - is putting things back the way they were really the right thing to do?





	1. The Last Day of Your Life

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks! For those of you who already know my work - welcome back! And those of you who don't - nice to meet you :)
> 
> This work is set in the same world as the Love?... stories, but it isn't necessary to have read those to understand this.
> 
> A small confession before we begin - the world building, especially in the first chapter, is based heavily on some original work of mine, but fan fiction as a genre is nothing is not self-indulgent. The amount of OC's will be kept to the absolute minimum, though, so no-one needs to worry abut no knowing what's going on... well, any more than the story needs you to!
> 
> My returning readers already know what to expect from me, but to the newcomers... buckle your seatbelts 8)

Every magician knew the tale of the burning mountain.

Aeons ago, humans and monsters lived in peace, until the humans got jealous of the monsters grasp of magic, and a war began. Eventually, the monsters were sealed below a mountain.

But the war didn't end. It had made too many of the wrong people rich and powerful, and they weren't willing to give that up just because the monsters were gone.

So the war kept going. They hunted down any monsters that had avoided being sealed away, until there were no more to be found across the entire globe. Who would be the enemy then? Who's blood would be the oil for their war machine? There had to be more monsters, somewhere, anywhere. But there weren't. There was only one solution – there must be monsters that looked like humans. And what was the difference between humans and monsters?

Magic.

The very human magicians who sealed the monsters underground were the first to be killed during the Great Purge. They were hung, burned, drowned, beheaded, crushed, impaled, and boiled to death, and those became the methods by which magicians were murdered from then on.

The magicians did the only thing they could – they went underground themselves, metaphorically speaking. They hid themselves, left behind their ancient names, and blended in with the rest of humanity.

Eventually, after not seeing it for generations, the average human started to doubt that magic even existed at all. It lapsed into the realm of myth, just like the monsters themselves. What the 'monsters' were changed, then changed again, then changed again. There were always monsters. There were always monster hunters. They went by different names, but they were always there. Most of humanity moved on.

Most.

You found yourself pondering the ancient tale as you arrived for work at the bookshop. You knew the monsters must be an allegory for something rather than literal creatures, but you weren't sure what. The 'old ways', perhaps? But then, how do you 'behead' a way of life? It was a good thing you weren't a historian – no, you were a keyholder.

Abbie Smith, the shop owner, looked up from the newspaper she was reading, cigarette in one hand, as you approached. She was a painfully thin woman who plastered her face in make-up like it was war paint, probably to disguise the fact she never slept.

“Good morning, Sam.” she greeted, taking a drag.

Sam wasn't your name. Abbie Smith wasn't hers either.

“Ms. Smith.” you said back “Is delivery here yet?”

“Might not arrive today.” she thought “Fingers crossed.”

With a polite smile and a nod, you went behind the counter and into the back room, where metal shelves held boxes and boxes of second hand books, and left your coat and bag in the office before heading back out.

The shop was in the poorer part of the city, but people tended to ask less questions here. The buildings were old and badly kept, owned by people who'd never even seen them and charged double or even triple what they were worth in rent. The bookshop itself was set in the arch of a low railway bridge, nestled between a florist that was a front for a meth racket and a second hand clothes shop. It was surprisingly large, stretching back in a long straight line from the front doors, where Ms Smith sat at the cash desk, under the railway lines to the back door, where you sat at the enquiry desk.

It was a dark, lonely kind of place, frequented only by avid book hunters, hungover students and people who were too broke for the major chains, but still considered themselves above libraries.

You sat at your desk, flicking on the sickly lamp, and got on with the ordering. The tall shelves and light fixtures rattled as a train passed overhead, a fine dust falling from the ceiling. Every time a train passed, the bare stone walls let out the most bizarre smell, almost like gasoline, but no-one could explain why.

“Excuse me!”

You looked up at the young voice – the child must have been around 9 years old, eyes shining with innocence and optimism.

“Do you have Harry Potter books?” they asked.

“In the children's section.” you told them, pointing it out “It's under 'R', for Rowling. Think you can find it?”

“Uh-huh!” the child confirmed, running off to look.

First enquiry of the day was actually about books. Perhaps today would be quiet.

A young woman approached your desk, clutching her toddler with one hand and a large, heavy looking shopping bag in the other. Strapped to her front was a gurgling baby, and on her back was a massive backpack, out of which was poking a French stick and some celery. When you looked up, you saw she had more bruise than face, but you didn't say anything.

“Sam Weaver?” she asked.

That wasn't your name. Never had been.

“Speaking.” you confirmed “What can I do for you?”

“I'm looking for a particular book.” she told you “The Burning Mountain, by A. Gore?”

Fuck. So much for a quiet day.

“I think we have a copy in the back.” you told her, getting up from your seat “It might take a while to find it, though. Why don't you come with me? You can put those bags down, and I'll put the kettle on.”

“Thank you.” the young woman said, and you could almost feel the relief that flooded from her.

You led her into the break room behind your desk, the toddler looking around while sucking his thumb, and locked the door behind you. Without a word, you picked up a black metal box and held it out to her.

“Phone.” you ordered “And any other internet device you have on your person. Any contactless cards too.”

The young woman didn't hesitate to hand them all over. You put the lid on the box, smacking it twice. When you took the lid off again, everything inside had disappeared. You put the box back in its place.

You walked to the other side of the room, turning the taps on the old sink in a practised motion, like opening a safe. With a guttural splutter, the mechanism moved, a shelf unit laden with books shuddering forward on its old hinges, revealing the heavily locked and bolted door behind.

“This is the point of no return.” you warned her “Are you ready?”

“I should have done this a long time ago.” she confirmed.

You just nodded, opening the door. Beyond it was a long, dark stairway, cold and concrete. You stepped into it, the motion-sensitive lights clicking on, illuminating nothing. You took a good look at the young woman - she'd done a good job of dressing up like a put-upon mother out shopping with her babies, but you knew that in those bags were what worldly possessions she couldn't bare to part with. Considering the age of the children, most of the stuff was probably theirs.

“Want me to take anything?” you asked her.

“Is that... allowed?” she asked, making you chuckle.

“No rule against it.” you assured, holding out your hand in offer.

Instead of any of the bags, she handed you her son, using her now free hand to hold the bags more securely. She followed you down the stairs, the door swinging closed and locking behind you. The sound echoed awfully here, each slap and thud of your feet on the damp concrete steps reverberating on the bare walls. It took minutes for you to reach the bottom, and you kept carrying the child as you walked along the similarly bare hallway, the young woman behind you, until you reached the dead end.

In the old red bricks lay the grey stone arches of long-sealed doorways, almost a dozen in total, immovable and impassable in the dim.

“Where are you headed?” you asked her.

“Heavens park.”

You turned to one of the doors, balancing the toddler on one hip as you held your hand against the bricks. The magic, it's original caster long forgotten, recognised you as a keyholder, and the bricks peeled back to reveal the foreboding corridor beyond.

“This is as far as I go.” you told the young woman “You're on your own now.”

“Thank you for your help.” she said again “Is there anything I need to know?”

“Just one thing.” you admitted “No matter what you hear, don't stop. Even if the voice is someone you know, don't stop until you reach Heavens Park. Don't answer, and for the love of god don't give them your children.”

The young woman nodded seriously. You passed her the toddler, and with no further fanfare she exited through the arch, the bricks sliding back into place behind her. Even though your vision was blocked by the wall, you kept looking at where the young woman went. You hoped she got to where she was heading.

All the lights went out, making you sigh. Nothing to do now but your favourite part of the job – heading back up those stairs.

* * *

 

There were three more travellers that day, two leaving and one arriving. The young woman's husband arrived shortly after she left, already half drunk and demanding to know where she was, as someone saw her go into the shop, but not come out. Abbie was more than capable at handling such men, sending him on his way in short order.

After closing the shop, she updated the travel ledger and secured it in the floor safe under her chair. At the end of the month it would go to the elders, who would compensate you for the public service you were providing. She stood at the front door with the dozen and a half shop keys in her hand as you retrieved your stuff.

“Are you heading straight home?” she asked you.

“No, I need to go to the market.” you told her “Pick up my new prescription.”

“I see.” was her only response “Don't eat anything you don't see made. Take care.”

With that, she locked you in the shop. You went back to the room behind you desk, down the long stairway, locking everything up behind you, and selected the correct archway to get to the market. Before long on this dark road, the overwhelming stench of methane and sewage filled the narrow hallway, and you pulled a scented rag from your bag to hold over your nose as you emerged into the sewer proper, walking along the wrought iron walkway without slowing down or looking around. Every now and then the way was lit by the light filtering in from a storm drain, but not nearly frequently enough, leaving you to navigate by nothing but the feel of the railing that stopped you plunging into the vile slurry below you.

As you passed one of the storm drains, you were reminded of your childhood, when your cautious mother would pull you past them without a second glance on your way to wherever she was going, and of your rambunctious adolescence, when you and your contemporaries would dare each other to pull a Pennywise and scare some passing child. Now, however, you didn't stop, or make any noise at all until you reached your destination.

The stairway up was much shorter than the one down, and it lead you to the back room of a Chinese takeaway, emerging through a hidden panel in the walk-in freezer. The place had the lowest health and safety score possible to stay open, but as it only sold authentic Chinese cuisine (anything on four legs but the table...), it was still popular enough that people coming and going wasn't going to raise any eyebrows.

After leaving the takeaway, you walked along the street to the old catholic church. It was nearly dilapidated and smelled strongly of feet and cheap coffee, but that was entirely on purpose. Luckily for you, the confessional was empty, so you knocked three times on the door before entering.

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned.” you began “I've been living a secret life. I even lie about my name.”

“And what is that name, my child?” a patient voice from the other side of the booth asked.

“Sam Weaver.”

There was a pause on the other side. After a moment, there was a click, and the back of the booth slid away to reveal a stairway going down. You thanked the priest before going through.

Another dark set of stairs. Another long hallway. Story of your life.

This hallway had several routes, led to many places, some of them dead ends. You could hear whispers, almost make out words, but you knew better than to react to them. At the end of the hallway sat an elderly man in a comfortable chair. He was stone deaf and blind, had been in his whole life – it was the only way he could stand to stay down here day after day. Despite this, he knew you were coming, holding up his ledger and pen for you to sign.

You looked briefly at the names that were signed in. None of them were real – much like the internet, it was just known that no-one used their real names. 'Edith Finch', 'Michael Crichton', 'Thomas Harris'. All aliases. You wrote your own down, and the elderly man knocked his knuckles on the wall behind him. The bricks parted to reveal your destination.

The entire market was a few floors under the ground. You had heard there were above ground markets in more modern cities, secreted in skyscrapers and the like, but you had never seen them. Considering the hour, you headed straight for the smith, catching him just as he was closing the door to his shop.

“Oh, Sam!” he greeted “Just in time – come in, come in.”

His daughter sat at the counter, buried in textbooks, with the usual unimpressed teenage scowl on her face. After disappearing into the back for a moment, he handed you the glasses you had given him a few days ago.

“Try these out, let me know how they work.”

You took off the glasses you were wearing, and immediately the world exploded into a tapestry of colours, stretched like wires across your vision, disappearing through solid objects and completely unbending as people moved through them. Even in the short time it took you to put the new glasses on, you could feel your eyes start to hurt. The coloured threads disappeared, the world returning to normality.

All but one anyway.

“Goddammit.” you sighed “There's a new one.”

“Since Thursday?” the smith enquired.

“How can there be a new thread?” his daughter asked.

“The world is constantly changing.” you explained “Technology and communications evolve, creating new relationships. Did you know that people who are only friends on facebook have their own colour?”

“No way...” the girl laughed.

“It's true. There's a whole separate colour for someone who follows someone online, but they aren't mutuals.”

“That's nuts.”

“What's the new colour?” the smith asked, looking annoyed that his hard work was obsolete before it was ever used.

“Blue and pink.” you told him, taking a good look at the few strings of thread you could see across the room.

“So... purple?” the daughter asked.

“No, they're coiled around each other in a spiral. Like a candy cane.”

You walked up to the thread. It shimmered and shined, but didn't move. You concentrated on it, feeling your eyes strain and your head start to pound, but after a moment of study, it's meaning became clear to you.

“Re... set?” you scried “It's 'reset'.”

“The heck is a reset?” the teenager asked.

“I don't know.” you admitted.

“Let me take those glasses back.” the smith offered “I'll put another coat on. Go get some dinner, it will take about an hour.”

* * *

 

There wasn't much that was open this time of night – the doctors, the emergency centre, and a few places to eat. As you passed by the school, the teachers were showing the last of the children out, reminding them that they still had to do their homework from their above ground schools before they went to bed. You really didn't miss being in school. With your old glasses still on, you could see about twelve different colours of thread stretching out in front of you, each one representing a different type of relationship.

That was your magic, seeing these threads. You could follow a thread to find someone, and legend had it that with the proper scissors you could cut one, but that was the extent of your magic. For that, you had lived your whole life in fear, crawling through secret tunnels like a rat, sleeping with one eye open.

The unfairness of it all was overwhelming. You couldn't even think about it any more.

Not that anyone else was any better of. The guy that ran the cafe in the market had the ability to heat liquid with one hand and cool it with the other. The headmistress at the school could turn off anyone's magic, but only for ten minutes at a time. You best friend as a teenager had been considered a prodigy because she could move and entire bucketful of water – at 21 she had gotten black-out drunk, lost control of her magic and drowned, miles away from the closest body of water.

Magic was nothing but a curse.

A flash of movement caught your eye – with a whip and a crack, a new thread was pulled tight across your path. It had been a while since you had seen that, thanks to your glasses. Despite everything, it felt good to know that new relationships were being made every day. Curious, you took a closer look at it.

Another 'reset'. What did it mean? You could usually tell what the threads were about after a little study, but this one had you stumped. As you looked at the thread, you noticed something you hadn't seen before – it was ever so slightly... oozey. Some black, viscous goop was disappearing into the new thread, hiding itself under the pink and blue. That didn't strike you as a good thing. Whatever 'reset' meant, it was probably bad.

After grabbing some dinner, you picked up your new and improved glasses and headed home, having to catch three buses and walk for forty minutes to get to your piece of shit flat. Just as you closed the door, the alarm on your phone went off.

The community app sprung to life – the burners were around. A family a few streets away had been killed – a false positive, but close enough to actual magicians to make people nervous. Just when you thought you could relax.

You sighed miserably, rolling your tired shoulders, and went to the kitchen of your tiny home, opening the cupboard under the sink and pulling out the boxes of cleaning supplies before you climbed in. At the back was a hidden panel, only just big enough for you to crawl through, and once you were inside you put the boxes back and shut the cupboard doors behind you. The compartment was only just big enough for a single mattress, with a plug socket and a tap that connected to the sink on the other side of the wall.

You plugged your phone in and started up netflix, pulling the duvet over you and resigning yourself to yet another night in hiding.

There had to be better ways to live than this.

* * *

 

When you woke up, you were in your own bed. In your pyjamas, no less. That was... more than a little unusual. Did you leave your hiding place in the middle of the night, still half asleep, and just not remember? You had never done that before...

Regardless, you got out of bed and got ready for the day, turning on the news as you made breakfast. There was a story about an android, and...

Wait.

The story wasn't about the android. The android was reading the news. It was wearing a suit and everything. Had you turned on a movie by accident? It was your regular news channel at your regular time, and the set looked the same. The android wasn't even talking about anything absurd, going on about traffic jams before passing over to the weather. The weather that was being read by a ghost.

What the...

The alarm on your phone screamed at you, reminding you to go to work, so you dismissed what you saw as just some kind of tv hi-jinks and finished getting ready, bolting out of the building as fast as your legs could carry you.

You immediately stopped. Sat on the bench by the bus stop was some kind of lion... wearing clothes... women's clothes, no less, although it was definitely a male lion. It hailed the bus, which you saw was being driven by what you could only describe as a blob of slime in a hat.

What... what the heck was going on? Had you snapped? Were you delirious?

You looked at your phone, ready to boot up the community app, only to find it wasn't there. Had a bad update erased it? Your home screen had changed too – it was now a picture of you with your best friend, smiling and hugging against a bright sky. The friend who had died years ago, but this picture was you as you are now...

Something was going on, something weird.

You hurried to work, keeping your head down. These creatures were everywhere – commuting to work, bustling around the shops, running to school – but there were humans as well, none of whom reacted to their presence at all, like it was just another Wednesday. _You_ were the one getting odd looks as you hurried along, clutching your bag and side-eyeing everyone.

Stopping in a doorway, you took a moment to catch your breath. They were everywhere... Was it you? Was something wrong with you? Was it your new glasses?

With shaky hands, you took them off, casting your eyes back to the street. You were immediately assailed by the walls of threads all around you, blocking off everything else in sight.

Blue and pink. Blue and pink everywhere. 'Reset'. Every single person you could see had at least one 'reset' thread attached to them, and judging by the sheer amount of them, everyone you couldn't see must have one too.

You weren't going crazy. Something really had happened.

“Hey, are you okay?”

You looked around at the voice – a large woman with blue scales and fins on her head, wearing a police uniform, looked at you in concern. You couldn't imagine what you must look like, standing in a doorway sweating like the devil was chasing you.

“I'm, uh... not feeling so good.” you told her, putting your glasses back on.

Immediately, the world cleared and made sense again, but the monsters – and that was really the only word for them – remained.

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” the officer asked you “Should I call someone for you?”

“Thank you, but no.” you told her, trying to get a grip on yourself “I'll be okay. Breakfast and a coffee and I'll be fine.”

The officer hummed, looking dissatisfied.

“Wait here.” she ordered.

She ran off, disappearing so quickly you didn't even bother trying to leave – she would catch you easily. When the officer came back, she had a brown bag in her hand, passing it to you.

“Get this down you.” she ordered “And take it easy. If you aren't feeling better in an hour, get to a doctor, okay?”

She laughed when she saw the flabbergasted look on your face, giving you a hardy smack on the shoulder.

“Don't look so shocked!” she teased “It's just a sandwich and some sea tea! Take care of yourself, okay?”

With no further ceremony, the officer went back to work. That was the first time in your life a policeman had ever been friendly to you, never mind actually helping you... You looked into the bag, and sure enough there was a sandwich and a can inside. Overwhelmed, and having nothing better to do, you took the sandwich and started to eat it, sitting down on the step of the doorway.

As you swallowed it, the food disappeared, nothing more than a fizzy feeling of contentment reaching your stomach.

The same word kept coming to your mind.

Reset.

Reset.

Reset.

What the hell was going on?

 

 


	2. Sweet F.A.

Everything had changed. _EVERYTHING._

Even before you got to work, the changes were staring you in the face - the trains were now solar powered, the streets were bizarrely clean, there were brands you'd never heard of anywhere, not to mention all the monsters... When you finally arrived, you found a plump, happy-looking woman sat at the front desk with a romance novel in her hands. She looked vaguely familiar, but...

"Oh, Sam!" she cried when she finally noticed you "Don't scare me like that! Standing there like a scarecrow!"

"... Ms Smith?"

"Who's that?" she said as she stood up from the desk, bustling her things together "Someone picking up a book?"

When you didn't respond, she took a good look at you. She actually looked concerned. This is definitely Abbie Smith, but... also very much not.

"Are you okay?" she asked, placing a hand on your forehead in a motherly fashion "You're very pale."

"No... I mean, yes! A little under the weather, nothing serious." 

"Are you sure? Do you want me to cancel today?"

"No, no, that's not necessary... what's happening again?"

"Bru and I are going out." she giggled... wait, she what? "Would you even believe it's our 20 year anniversary?"

"I would not." you said honestly.

"And don't forget the new boy starts today!" she ordered "He's a bit of a nervous nelly, so be nice, okay?"

"I'm always nice."

She levelled you with a dry look. The door behind you opened, a large brown bear in the sports coat poking his head in.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

"Just handing over to Sam." she replied, turning back to you "Are you sure you can handle everything? You really don't look well..."

You waved off her concerns - you didn't need your boss breathing down your neck while you were trying to figure this out.

"I'll be fine." you assured "Have fun."

"Well, okay..." she reluctantly agreed "Have a good afternoon, Sam..."

With that, she grabbed up her bag and walked out with the bear, arm in arm down the road. Wait, was that Bru? 'Bru' as in 'bruin'? Ugh...

The changes to the shop were immediately noticeable - there was no enquiries desk any more, just the one cash desk at the front. In the break room, you tried the taps in the motions you knew by rote, but the only thing that happened was you getting sprayed by water. The taps hadn't even been connected to the water pipes before. The door that led to the long stairway had completely disappeared... Acting on a hunch, you grabbed up an armful of history books and sat at the front desk to read them. Luckily, today was quiet enough that you didn't have to worry about customers much. At first you tried to keep track of the changes you remembered, but it soon became pointless. Everything was just too different. It was a whole new world...

World changing wars never happened, or happened at a different time, or were replaced by entirely different wars. The atlas was unrecognisable, no border where you knew they should be and countries you had never heard of replacing ones as old as civilisation itself - you were surprised that the continents were even the same shape. Modern history was different too, with different social and political struggles, a different approach to technology and the environment, even fucking architecture was different! If everything else had changed, then...

You went through everything you owned - or at least what you had bought to work with you. It, too, was different. Not as different as the rest of world, but still different enough for you to notice. Although you didn't remember it, you had existed in this world the entire time. You had bank accounts, ID's, contacts in your phone... you still had your job, your little flat, you looked exactly the same. You had a place in this world, just as carved out as it had been in the world you knew yesterday.

This realisation left you with a choice. You could either run through the streets trying to convince people the world had changed, but they couldn't remember it, and have everyone think you're crazy, or you could calm down, adjust, and learn to adapt to this new world.

It wasn't a hard decision.

There was sweet F.A you could do about any of the changes. Whatever had happened was practically cataclysmic, affecting the entire planet and all the people on it - it was well beyond your power to fix. Clinging to the past would only make you crazy. Unless you were already crazy, in which case it still probably wouldn't help. Accepting that things had changed and learning to adjust was the only thing you could do. Not that it would be easy, but you had learned to survive in the world once - you could do it again.

"Pardon me..." a somewhat familiar voice called.

Looking up from your phone, you came face-to-face with who else but the young woman from yesterday, only her face was completely devoid of bruises, and what she had in her hands actually were shopping bags. That, and she had three children instead of two. And they were made of _fire._

_They were made of fire._

You watched the two that could walk running into the aisles of books, their green and blue flames casting bizarre lights on the shelves, while the youngest burbled in their restraint and tried to eat their tiny flaming fist.

"Oh, don't worry!" the young woman assured as she saw you staring at her kids "Their fire isn't hot enough to burn the books, I promise!"

That hadn't even occurred to you.

Another day in retail, you supposed.

"How can I help?" you asked.

She was looking for Enid Blyton books. Helping her find them was reassuringly normal, a breath of the usual in this traumatically upside down day. It was even easy for you to forget that her children were _made of fire_.

Until you thought about it. Then it was all you could think about. You put on your best retail face and put their purchases through, ignoring your internal screaming and the questions upon questions that rose, unbidden, in your mind. Most of them revolving around 'how'...

If you really were going to live in this world, you had a lot to learn. With no other customers left to speak of, you went back to your research. 

* * *

 

"E-Excuse me?" 

You looked up from your book, expecting to see a child from the shy, somewhat high-pitched voice, only to be met with legs. You kept looking up until you found the face, trying your best to stifle your shock.

It was a fucking _skeleton_. 

"Um... hi." he greeted, fiddling with the strap of his messenger bag "Is Margaret here?"

Who?

"I-I'm here for m-my first day at work..."

The skeleton got quieter and quieter as he talked, avoiding your gaze. Abbie had called him a 'nervous nellie'... Wait, was Abbie's name 'Margaret' in this reality?

"Oh yes, she told me about you." you reassured him, standing up and offering your hand "Hi, I'm-"

"Sam, right? Margaret told me..."

As he took your hand, the skeletons eyes went wide, and you could hear his breath hitch (did skeletons need to breath?).

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" he suddenly yelled, looking positively stricken "I didn't mean to interrupt you! That was so terribly rude of me, I can't apologise enough!"

"It's fine." you assured him, a little scared his tight grip is going to break your hand "Don't worry about it."

He made an undignified noise, almost deflating where he stood until you could see the top of his head, which was now glowing orange.

"...I'm Papyrus..." he mumbled, still not looking at you "...sorry..."

Instantly, a part of you wanted to fight. Not fight Papyrus, of course... you weren't entirely sure what you wanted to fight.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." you told him, using the grip you had on his hand to pull him to the side of the counter "C'mon, let me show you around."

Abbie... Margaret? hadn't been kidding about him being nervous. For being so tall, he sure liked to look at his shoes, and despite being built like an anorexic noodle he held himself tightly, like he thought he was in the way. You went through the usual 'first day' stuff - paperwork, where's the bathroom, etc - and it was almost like he was scared to talk, practically exploding what he had to say before falling into a dead silence again. However, he did what he was told without objection, and his short shift ended without incident.

He really dragged his feet on the way out, taking his time walking around the shop and looking at all the books. Was he trying to memorise the stock, or did he just not want to go home? After a while, he did reluctantly leave, looking around the street was if deciding which way to go.

What an unusual boy.

* * *

It wasn't until you arrived home that you came to a realisation. Your little flat was nicer than it had been before, with more furniture and food in the cupboards. All your hiding places were gone, not even tool marks left on the wood of your kitchen cabinets. If you hadn't needed to build them, then surely this world must be better, right? 

It was when you were in the shower, washing away the stress and confusion that it occurred to you.

Everyone had called you Sam.

* * *

On the way to work the next day, you pulled an Abbie and loaded up on newspapers. You _would_ understand this world, and the sooner the better. If you were still known by your alias rather than your real name, there had to be a reason for it.

As you approached the bookshop, you noticed Papyrus sat in the cafe (that used to be the meth-dealing florist), trying to look small while sipping on a laughably tiny cup of tea. He seemed to shrink when he spotted you, and you knew you'd caught him doing something he didn't want anyone to see. Suspicious.

"Hey, Papyrus." you greeted when you got close enough "Don't you start at one?"

"Y-yeah..." he admitted, fingering his cup "I was just... a little early..."

"Four and half hours early?"

"... Yes."

"If you're angling for overtime, this isn't the way to do it." you told him.

"Oh! N-no, that's not what I'm doing!" he started to panic "I really was just early, I-!"

"Papyrus." you said sternly, stopping him in his floundering "Are you having some problems at home?"

His mouth closed so fast you heard it click. He sat so still, it looked like he had turned to stone, but he didn't take his eyes off you. You checked your watch briefly, making sure you had time.

"You don't have to tell me what's going on." you assured him "But I'm not stupid. You didn't want to leave yesterday, and you're hanging around ridiculously early today. Just be honest with me."

"I... how can I do both?" he asked quietly "How can I not tell you, but also be honest?"

"You say, 'hey Sam, things are bad at home, but I don't want to talk about it. Can I hang out and read in the break room?'"

His eyes were still locked on you for a few more moments, almost like he'd forgotten how to talk.

"H... hey, Sam," he started unsurely "Um... things are bad... can I hang out and read? In the break room?"

"Sure." you told him "Finish your tea, I'm sure A... Margaret won't mind."

"Yeah, I finished this an hour and a half ago." he admitted quietly, putting down his long empty cup and grabbing his bag.

Perhaps it had been wrong of you to call him out, especially after only knowing him a day, but you knew avoidance tactics when you saw them. You had used enough of them yourself, over the years. Sometimes, any place was better than home, even if it meant turning up to work six hours early. You weren't going to pressure him into telling you anything, though - at the end of the day, it wasn't any of your business.

Margaret didn't mind Papyrus being early, but was concerned at exactly how early he was. She even went and made him a cup of tea - something Abbie never would have done. 

When he finally did start work, he kept looking at you strangely, almost like you were a bomb he was waiting to explode. You still had a lot of training to do with him, which he listened to just as well as he did yesterday. Maybe too well, as he often leapt into action before you were even done talking. During one such flurry of activity, he dropped one of the hardbacks, and when you both jumped to catch it, you saw him violently flinch away from you. The moment passed, and once he realised what he had done, he physically recoiled, and would have bolted for the door if you hadn't gabbed his hand.

He put up a token fight, but allowed himself to be pulled to the break room, where you sat him down on the couch. He looked at you like you were going to hit him.

Judging from that reaction earlier, that's probably what he was expecting.

"I said I wouldn't make you talk, and I meant it." you told him "But this behaviour is a problem."

"I'm sorry!" he immediately flustered "I don't mean to! P-Please don't be mad!"

"I'm not mad. I'm concerned... Maybe it would be best if you went home for the day-"

"NO!" he yelled with such force that it made you jump "N-no, I... I'll be okay, I promise! I'll do better!"

He was more scared of whatever was waiting for him at home than of messing up at his new job. He didn't seem like the kind of person to handle stress very well, either.

"Take five minutes." you told him calmly "Cool your head. Smoke a joint, stroke one out, whatever you have to do to calm down. When you come back, I want your full focus, okay?"

"Y-yes! Of course!"

With nothing more than a sigh out your nose, you left him there to get his head straight. Margaret was picking up the dropped books, and gave you a dirty look as you approached.

"You aren't picking on him, are you?" she accused.

"Not even a little."

"It looked like you were."

"I'm not picking on him." you repeated sternly.

"He's a good boy, he just needs a chance." she went on anyway "His old teacher is a friend of mine-"

"So that's how he got this job."

"I only promised her I'd interview him." she swore "He got the job on his own merits. You're so serious all the time, you know how much it intimidates people!"

Do you?

"Just try being a little softer with him, please?" she asked "You know how badly we need more help around here."

You do?

"I'm not picking on him." you assured her again "He just needed a time out."

"He's not a child."

"You're the one that called him a 'good boy'."

Margaret opened her mouth to argue back, but closed it when she looked over your shoulder. Papyrus reappeared, looking like he had pulled himself together, but more than that looking ashamed, rubbing his arm.

"Um..." he started "I feel better now... sorry... can I go back to work...?"

Margaret shot you a warning glare, but said nothing as you and Papyrus got back to the days tasks. You had no other issues with him over the shift - it seemed like he was avoiding looking at you. You couldn't imagine that you actually did intimidate him, especially seeing how tall he was. He stayed almost silent until closing time, when Margaret kicked you both out, and as you started to walk to the train station, you once again saw the skeleton loitering, unwilling to go home.

The string bean looked awfully small as he shuffled on his feet and stuck his hands in his pockets.

Goddammit...

Papyrus looked up when you called him. You couldn't believe this was going to come out of your mouth, least of all to a skeleton monster you only met yesterday, in a world completely alien to you, after waking up in the fucking twilight zone, but...

"You want to grab some dinner?" you asked him "There's a place close by, not too expensive. You like pasta?"

The boys face lit up like a supernova, and he followed after you like an eager puppy.

This world, while not perfect, did seem to be better than the one before. You thought, albeit briefly, that maybe this was your chance to be better too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've met our first skeleton! But poor Papyrus isn't quite the way he should be...
> 
> Don't forget to add a comment if you're enjoying the fic so far - reading all your theories is one of my favourite parts of this! :)


	3. Answers

Good god, could this boy talk. It seemed you had broken the metaphorical seal when you asked Papyrus out to dinner, as he had hardly shut his mouth long enough to swallow since. You could guess that no-one at home really listened to him, since he prattled on about anything and everything that came to his mind. It didn't particularly bother you - it was better than stuttering and flinching, that was for sure - but the way he followed you around like a duckling did its mother did make it somewhat difficult for you to conduct your investigations.

"So then Mettaton said, 'back, evil doers!'" the skeleton went on, waving his chopsticks in the air as the two of you sat on the bench on the park "It's a departure from the book, but I liked it! Oh, and then-!"

With the underground paths gone, you had had to find your old touchstones the old-fashioned way. At the Chinese takeaway, there had always been a particular set of orders that were code for 'emergency, shit's fucked', but instead of being led to the back room and into a hidden passage, you were given a chicken and noodle dish, a side of sweet and sour sauce and salt and pepper chips. Papyrus was happy to eat it anyway.

"The best part is probably the romance, but then I would say that." he continued as you ambled along to the church "There's something so wonderful about two souls coming together, don't you think, and... I didn't know you were a Catholic?"

"Not a good one - the priest owes me money." you lied "Wait here - I'll be ten minutes at the most."

You went into the old building, which now seemed to be in a much better state of repairs, and performed the usual routine in the confessional. Instead of asking for your name, the priest told you to say the appropriate amount if Hail Mary's and advised you to tell the truth to those you had wronged. As you leaned back against the wall, rather than the sliding door giving slightly under your weight, you were met with the unyielding force of a solid stone wall.

With that out of the way, you had one last place to go today before all your 'errands' were done. Papyrus was exactly where you had left him, looking a little dejected until he saw you again, instantly perking back up and continuing his description of 'Mettaton vs Love vs Zombies'. 

Your last port of call was the market. In your old reality, it had been buried under the warehouse district, far away from suburbia. Even with Papyrus on your tail, you would be able to find the signs and doorways that led to it without going down, but at this point you were expecting exactly nothing. Those expectations were thrown completely out of the water when you found not a road clustered with warehouses, but a bricks and mortar high street, teeming with people. Papyrus gasped at the sight of it.

"Is this..." he asked "A human magic market?! I didn't know you were a mage!"

A lifetime of living in hiding told you to deny it, to run away and disappear, to warn others you had been discovered, but... fuck, you were talking to an actual animate skeleton. You swallowed the ingrained reflex to panic and run away, forcing on a smile.

"Yeah," you admitted through gritted teeth "It's nothing special though."

"I'm sure it is!" Papyrus disagreed "What kind of magic do you have? Oh! I'm sorry, is that too personal?"

"No, it's fine." you assured, ignoring the confused chills in your spine "I can see threads."

The skeleton gasped in delight, launching into a million questions. You barely had time to answer before he asked the next one, so you gave up trying and simply led him along the shops. The order was different, and there were monster and non-magic shops as well, but everything you remembered was here: the school, the various smiths, the cafe, all of it, right out in the open were everyone could see it.

Magicians didn't need to hide in this reality. There were no underground paths, no hidden markets, no secret phrases to signal for help.

But why did people still call you by your alias? If things were really the way they seemed, why not your real name?

"Oh!" Papyrus gasped again "Sam, can you tell me who my true love is?!"

"I can only see relationships that already exist." you explained.

"I see!"

Papyrus stopped in his path, looking introspective a moment. Even before he spoke next, you could see him shrink, fiddling his fingers and looking awkward. Just when he had finally come out of his shell...

"Can you..." he asked unsurely "Find my mother...?"

Oh. Yeah, that would be awkward to ask someone you barely knew. It wouldn't kill you to look, at least to give him a direction to walk in.

"Give me your hand." you ordered "No gloves."

He looked startled a moment, like he hadn't actually expected you to agree, before quickly fumbling with his gloves, dropping one in the process, and put his long phalanges in your waiting palm. You took off your glasses: with direct physical contact, you were able to see only his threads, the rest fading away into clear lines that did nothing but annoy you when you tried to look anywhere. 

Papyrus had a lot of threads, but very few of them made sense. The vast majority of the threads were 'reset', emerging from his chest and spiralling out in all directions. After picking through those, you could pick out the soft lilac of 'mutual friend', but... you had never seen threads like this. Usually, if a friendship had ended, the thread would be frayed, but this one was shattered like glass, the shards hovering around what little was left. What could have caused that?

That wasn't your business. You focused on what he asked of you - huh, he had a brother. Papyrus hadn't mentioned him at all, despite the verbal diarrhoea he had been suffering from. There was the father thread. Completely by accident, you found the string that pointed to you - it was 'coworker I really want to be friends with'. Well, heck... How was such a gangly skeleton so fucking cute? The threads colour changed to a darker lilac: 'mutual friend and coworker'.

Curiously, he didn't have a 'mother' thread. Not 'dead mother', 'absent mother', nothing. Weird.

You felt bad as you put your hand down, releasing his.

"Sorry..."

Papyrus looked disappointed, but smiled anyway.

"I was expecting as much." he admitted, holding the hand you had held close to his chest "Thanks for looking anyway."

You hated that kicked-puppy look on his face. He must have really wanted to know, but as far as you could tell, he had never even had a mother. That was impossible for humans, but monsters? You had no clue.

"C'mon, tiny." you bid, starting down the street again "I'll buy you an ice cream."

* * *

 

Wowie... wowie! Was this what having a friend was like? Papyrus liked it a lot!

Never in his life had Papyrus been able to talk this long without being told to shut up. Never in his life had he hung around someone this long without being told he was a nuisance. Never in his life had he gone _shopping_ with someone!  

Margaret had warned him, even before he started his job, that you could be kind of scary. It was true - you were kind of intimidating, the way you were so serious and quiet all the time, and he was never sure what was going through your head. But when you did open your mouth, wonderful things came out! Precious information, offers of pasta and ice cream, understanding words of encouragement...! He couldn't be entirely sure, but after a few moments of putting his bones in your squishy palm, he was sure he felt something change, like, maybe you felt like you were his friend too? Perhaps?

He could still feel the warmth of you on his phalanges. Humans were soft and squishy, like a microwaved pillow! It was really nice! (He could never, ever tell his father he was friends with a human. He could especially never tell him he had been to a human magic market! He'd never see the light of day again!). Papyrus wasn't stupid (despite what his father said) - he knew he was starved for positive attention and affection, that he was likely to glom onto anyone who showed him even the slightest kindness. He could already see himself doing that with you, and it honestly frightened him. Kindness always had a limit, and he didn't want to reach yours too soon.

He wasn't quite sure why you wanted to go to the magic market - you didn't even go into any of the shops - but he knew better than to question his good fortune. He was _hanging out_ , after all. Hanging out! He could still hardly believe it! Regardless, you soon wanted to leave, apparently having completed your errand just by turning up, but had to go to the supermarket before you headed home. Fearing the silence you seemed to live in, Papyrus immediately started telling you about 'Mettaton vs Love vs Zombies 2', his epic retelling lasting the three bus rides it took to get back to your neighbourhood.

On the way to the supermarket, a particular building caught his eye, the red lights on the sign standing out even in the early evening sunlight. _He_ was in that building... Would it completely ruin your day if Papyrus did a little errand of his own? Would it ruin his? You seemed to notice something was up (and not because he had been staring at the building, nosiree), as you stopped and turned to him.

"You okay there?" you asked.

"Um..."

It wouldn't hurt to ask, right?

"W-would you mind if I... did an errand of my own?"

Your eye twitched. It did that whenever he stuttered, he noticed. He had tried to stop, but it wasn't always that easy.

"Of course." you answered with a shrug anyway "Let me know when you're ready to go."

Papyrus couldn't help but smile. You were going to wait for him, just like friends do... He couldn't keep you waiting long, so ran across the street quickly. This wouldn't take long. It never did.

With a deep breath, he steeled his spine and entered Grillby's.

He was immediately disgusted by the entire place - the grease, the smell, the overwhelming feeling of depression that hung in the air like a hot fart... He hated Grillby's. There, at the counter, in his usual seat, was the rotund, blue jacket wearing figure of his big brother, fresh glass of some brown liquor in his hand. Oh stars, what was he going to say this time? What could he say that he hadn't already said before? Regardless, he approached the bar and tapped his brother on the shoulder.

Sans eye lights were hazy, his bones looked almost yellow, and there was a new stain on his jacket. He was well passed 'drunk' already, it seemed.

"H-hi." Papyrus greeted.

"whaddaya want, man?" Sans grumbled, swaying a little on his chair as he turned to face him.

"Hello, Sans!" he tried again "I-I was wondering... if you wanted to come to the supermarket with me?"

Oh boy, he was bound to love that. Idiot.

"the fuck would i want to go the supermarket?" he slurred in response "can't you even do that on your own?"

"I-I can!" Papyrus insisted "I-I-I just th-thought you might like a-a... change of... pace?"

Sans blinked at him, one eye light going out at a time in his inebriated state.

"that's a stupid fuckin' idea." he grumbled, downing his glass and slamming it back on the counter to be refilled.

Papyrus didn't even have it in him to deflate. Not anymore. How many times had they done this dance now? Today wasn't the day he was going to get Sans out of this bar.

"I just want my brother back..." he mumbled to himself as he turned to leave.

"I know the feeling." Sans replied bitterly, glaring at the wall as he grabbed the drink placed before him.

* * *

 

Papyrus looked like hell when he came out of the bar. He rubbed his arm as he ambled back over to you, but before either of you could say anything, the door to Grillby's was shakily thrown open again. A short, chubby skeleton shambled out, looking around the street before spotting you. They were obviously incredibly drunk, if the look on their face and complete inability to walk in a straight line were anything to go by.

"pap... pap... bro!" it slurred in a very deep voice "i'm sorry... i'm sorry... i did... didn't mean..."

"I know, Sans." Papyrus answered quietly.

"you're a good boy." the other skeleton went on, grabbing Papyrus' arm mostly to hold himself up, but also to pat it "you're my favourite brother, y'know?"

So, this was his brother. No wonder Papyrus hadn't mentioned him.

"I'm your only brother." he answered.

"even if i had a million... you'd be the favourite." Sans insisted, looking a little like he was going to throw up as he wobbled "i love you, bro! so much!"

Aaand now he was crying. The kind of loud, ugly crying only drunks were capable off. He certainly smelled like a drunk.

"I love you too, Sans." Papyrus sighed, patting the shorter skeleton on the head.

Sans took a few deep breaths, steadied himself, and finally released his brothers arm, turning back to the bar.

"i'm gonna go... whet my whistle." he excused "see you at home *burp* bro."

Papyrus didn't watch him leave, staring resolutely at the ground, but seemed to flinch when the door of the bar slammed closed. You gave him a moment to collect himself.

"So, that was Sans..." he said quietly.

"Is he the reason you never want to go home?" you pried.

"Sans?" Papyrus nearly scoffed "The only person he ever hurts is himself..."

Judging by the heart-broken expression on his face, that wasn't true. For the first time, you also had confirmation that someone has, indeed, hurting him, even if he hadn't realised he had admitted it.

The urge to fight something once again welled within you. This time, however, you had a target. 

Not right now, though.

"Let's get going before the supermarket closes." you all but ordered, leading him away from the bar without so much as looking over your shoulder.

* * *

 

Papyrus really was a good boy - he carried your shopping without a word of protest, even up the four flights of stairs to your flat. You bid him goodbye at the door, promising to see him tomorrow.

You gave it an hour.

When you opened the door and looked out into the hall, he was still there, reading a book with his shoes off. He clearly had no intention of going home for a long time, and here was as good a place as any to rest, it seemed. He had the good manners to look guilty when you sighed at him, gesturing him inside with nothing but a nod of your head. He was so eager to come in that he nearly tripped over his long legs, and you locked the door for the night behind him.  


	4. sans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey people, a small moment of seriousness before we begin.
> 
> I've had 'child abuse' tagged from the beginning because I like to be fair - people should know what's in a story that might upset them. However, as far as I'm concerned, child abuse and rape are those kinds of topics that shouldn't be depicted unless the act and it's consequences are what the story is about, otherwise it's just cheap, tasteless shock tactics that undermine the real events.
> 
> As such, while child abuse is mentioned in the story, it won't be depicted. If you didn't read the tags before beginning, this has been your final warning.

It was amazing how quickly you got used to having the monsters around. A small, logical part of your brain told you that you should be disgusted by them - they were literally monsters, some of whom looked like giant blobs of slime, some with half a million teeth crammed into their heads, some that could fly or were made of fire... - but the second they opened their mouths, that small part of you was silent. They were just people, and good people at that. The slime monsters apologised when they got their ooze on you on the train, the ones with a million teeth ate their vegetables delicately with a long fork, and the flames of the fire ones didn't burn anyone, not even the books.

You pondered how this was possible was you watched Margaret reading aloud in the kids area (something Abbie never would have done...): that young woman and her flaming children were in attendance, listening with rapt attention to one of the many adventures of the famous five. You hadn't realised you were staring until skeletal fingers waved in front of your face, startling you back to attention.

"What is it with humans and fire?" Papyrus teased you "Are you secretly moths?"

"Maybe." you shrugged, waving your fingers like antennae "Better watch that nice sweater-vest of yours, I might just eat it."

"Oh no!" he laughed "How will I rock the bookshop fashion world then?"

You were shushed by several people listening to the story. Holding up your hands in apology, you followed Papyrus into the back room to help him with the delivery. No-one was buying anything right now anyway.

"We got some more history books in." the skeleton told you when you were finally out of earshot "I put them on the side for you."

"Hey, thanks." you replied, looking through them briefly.

"You really like history, huh?"

"Just a hobby of mine. I like to know how things came to be the way they are."

"I don't like to think about that..." Papyrus muttered before completely changing his tune "I forgot to tell you! My cousins are in town for a few days - we're going to dinner tonight."

"What are you having? And don't say spaghetti."

Papyrus closed his mouth with a click. You hit the nail on the head.

"Don't know." he mumbled.

"Uh-huh."

"Maybe tacos."

"Sure."

"You don't know, I could be."

"Send me photos or I won't believe you."

"Maybe I will."

"Maybe you should."

Papyrus stifled a laugh, lugging one of the heavy boxes from the pile and prying the lid off, sorting the books into fiction and non-fiction.

"You'd think they'd send these already sorted." he pondered "My cousins are staying at a hotel. Would it be okay with you if I hang out at your place after dinner?"

'Hang out at your place' had become something of a code between you. He didn't stay at your place every night, but you had given up on putting the spare duvet away in the cupboard, just folding it up neatly on the end of the sofa until the next time he was over, which was always soon. He was a good guest - neat, always helped with the dishes, never took up the bathroom too long in the morning - but he was there so often you had seriously considered just giving him a key. However, your little place just wasn't built for two people, and the over six foot skeleton might just move himself in if he had a key.

'Hang out at your place' always meant 'stay over'. You supposed he didn't want to ruin the good time he had with his cousins by going home.

He still hadn't spoken about exactly why.

"Sure, but I don't want to be awake past 11.30." you warned him.

"Don't worry, my cousins aren't night people." he assured you "I'll be ho..."

The skeletons jaw audibly snapped shut. You knew what he was going to say, but to save his blushes, you pretended not to have heard him.

"I'll be at your place around 10." he corrected, avoiding eye contact with you for the next hour at least.

* * *

 

You weren't addicted. You weren't. You just... really, really liked nice cream. The melt, the fizz, the perfect level of sweetness - it just hit that sweet spot on your taste buds. That's why you had eaten three boxes in the past two weeks. And why you were currently buying your fourth, which you had already broken into on the way home, picking out your favourite flavour.

As you passed the train station, a familiar laugh caught your attention: just outside the station stood two skeletons, the taller of which was Papyrus. The smaller one was very similar looking to his brother, but was clearly sober and far more healthy looking. Quickly checking for traffic, you ran over to say hi.

"Papyrus, what are you wearing?" you teased by way of greeting, waving your nice cream at the orange hoodie "You're not rocking any fashion world in that."

The tall skeleton just looked at you, confusion and concern on his face.

"um..."

"Oh!"

Wait, that was...? Papyrus - that is, another Papyrus - ran up to you from the station entrance. You recognised those clothes as the ones he had been wearing earlier.

"Sam, again with the nice cream?!" this new Papyrus teased "You're going to rot your teeth!"

You looked between the two Papyruses. The one wearing the hoodie seemed to click into what was happening, chuckling to himself as he popped a cigarette into his mouth.

"you gonna introduce us?" he asked.

"Oh, right! Sam, these are my cousins!" Papyrus introduced, gesturing to the other two "Their names are also Sans and Papyrus, but we call them BB and Stretch."

"Oh!... Um, sorry about that..." you apologised to Stretch.

"i've been mistaken for worse people." he chuckled.  

"You mistook him for me?!" Papyrus gasped in mock outrage "Wearing _that_?!"

"okay, now I'm insulted." Stretch played along.

"You're a man of many interests, Paps, who's to say what you would wear." you agreed.

"Yeah, yeah."

After a bit more banter, you bid the skeletons goodbye and headed home. Your eyes couldn't help but linger on BB as you watched them head into the station - if that's what Sans would look like sober, all bright eyes and dazzling white bones, then you hadn't realised exactly how bad he had looked before.

A thought occurred to you just then. Those were Sans cousins too, but he was nowhere to be seen. Probably getting drunk again.

That wasn't any of your business, though.

...

...

...

Fuck. It was a good thing nice cream didn't melt, as you turned down the opposite road to your way home and headed to Grillby's instead.

You were acting on impulse, not entirely sure what you were going to say to Sans if he was there. What could you say to him that his brother hadn't already? That, and you were a stranger he had only met once - while drunk - so your words would carry next to no weight to him at all. Were you even going to say anything, or were you just going to feel him out? You didn't know. You'd decide when you got there.

The place was pretty nice on the inside - wooden interior with copper accents, plush seats on the booths, and despite the bar tender being made of fire, the place didn't have the acrid reek of cigarette smoke about it. You picked Sans out easily, and sat yourself at the bar beside him. The bartender looked at you for a long moment, his expression impossible to read, and for a second you wondered if he was the father of those little flames that came to your shop.

"No outside food." he finally said quietly, almost as if he were afraid to bring it up, voice deep and crackling like a log fire.

"If you see me eating it, you can chuck me out." you say.

The compromise seemed agreeable to him, as he passed you a drinks menu. You ordered some blue thing you liked the look of, and the bartender wandered off to make it.

"say... dun i know you?"

You looked around. Sans eyes were hazy, almost misty, but he was clearly trying to concentrate as he looked at you.

"We met briefly." you confirm "I'm Papyrus' friend."

"...nah, tha's not it..." he slurrs, shaking his head.

"I guarantee you it is." you argued.

"oh, i dun doubt you're his friend _now_." he acquiesced, swaying a little on his stool "but tha's not how _i_ know you... i know you from somewhere else... did we go to sc*hic* s-school together?"

"I highly doubt it."

Sans actually laughed, high pitched and off kilter, putting his head in his hand.

"right..." he said "i was home schooled... grillby, can i get another?"

The bartender, who it was safe to assume was Grillby, put your drink in front of you before picking up Sans empty glass. To your surprise, what he poured in it was nothing more than apple juice.

"he cut me off an hour ago." Sans stage whispered to you, almost giggling "i'm still drunk!"

"I can see that." you answered "I just saw Papyrus with your cousins - you not going out to dinner with them?"

"i don't have any cousins." he replied immediately.

"BB and Stretch?" you prompted.

Sans started laughing again, at what you had no idea. It ended with a tired sigh.

"i don't have any cousins." he repeated.

"If they aren't your cousins, who are they?" you pried.

Sans took a good look around the bar. You almost had to catch him when he swayed, afraid he would fall off his stool. After he had done that, he beckoned you closer, as if he was about to share a secret with you.

"they're me and paps from an alternate dimension." he told you, only slurring his words a little bit despite the stench of alcohol on his breath "but shhh! it's a secret!"

"Why is it a secret?" you stage whispered back.

This seemed to stump him. He leaned back on his stool, staring at the ceiling a moment as if he would find the answer written there.

"i dunno." he admitted "i jus r'member that it is. i jus r'member tha... i jus r'member... i jus r'member."

An expression you could only describe as trauma flashed across his face. Without a word, he grabbed your drink and downed it, earning him an annoyed bark from Grillby.

"i dun wanna r'member..." Sans sobbed "i dun wanna r'member what he did..."

The skeleton started shaking, fat tears falling from his eyes. 

"i dun wanna r-r-r-'member..." he whimpered, putting his head in his hands.

Any thoughts of confrontation flew out the window. In this state, the only thing he should be confronting is a cup of coffee. Grillby seemed to be of the same opinion, as he soon placed a mug of steaming black coffee on the bar in front of the crying Sans, turning to you apologetically.

"I'll get you another one." he offered, picking up your empty glass "On the house."

You smiled in thanks as he disappeared. Sans' crying was getting awkward, so you did the only thing you could think of - you rubbed his back soothingly, patting it occasionally. You had never had to deal with such... passionate displays of emotion before, and were decidedly uncomfortable.

"C'mon, buddy, let's talk about something else." you suggested "Papyrus is doing great at work, he's picking things up very quickly."

Sans face immediately rose, eye lights hazy but aware at the sound of his brothers name.

"he *hic* he is?" he asked, sounding almost hopeful.

"Yeah, he's been a big help." you replied honestly "He's very enthusiastic, and you should just see him interacting with the kids! You'd be proud of him."

Sans face spread into a genuine smile, eyes going soft.

"i'm always proud of my bro." he told you.

His face twitched, and you could have sworn it went green.

"my... bro..."

Suddenly covering his mouth, Sans practically fell from his stool and bolted through a door beside the bar. Seconds later, you heard the sound of enthusiastic vomiting, followed by a tired sigh beside you.

"That's not even close to the bathroom..." Grillby mumbled "It's so busy in here..."

"I'll handle the skeleton." you tell him, getting up and grabbing your bag of nice cream "Do you have someone else to cover the bar?"

"... Yes?" he replied unsurely, not knowing what to make of an offer of help from someone who walked in for the first time ten minutes ago.

"Then the three bases are covered. Which way is the bathroom?"

Despite being quite rotund, Sans was pretty light, and it was easy for you to get him to his feet and practically carry him to the bathroom. It probably helped that he was a good head and a half shorter than you. Even before you wrangled him into the toilets, Grillby had acquired a mop and bucket and tended to the glowing blue puke. Why the hell was it glowing? Maybe that was a monster thing.

You managed to get him in a stall, head over the throne, before he threw up again. You kept rubbing his back, again patting it every now and then, until it looked like he was reaching his limit. You dug around in your bag, picking out a lemon nice cream and unwrapping it as Sans wiped the last dregs of vomit from his face with the sleeve of his coat.

"Eat this." you ordered, holding the frozen treat in front of his face.

He did without question, leaning back against the stall wall and blinking sleepily. He kind of looked like a giant baby, all cried out and sucking on a dummy. There were still tears on his face, and he was breathing heavily from the exertion of being sick. His eye lights were still hazy as he looked at you.

"... i swear i know you from somewhere." he said again "your face is so familiar to me. i feel like i knew you in another life."

"Anything's possible." you submitted, sitting opposite him.

"don't i look familiar to you at all?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but were interrupted as the door to the bathroom opened, being bathed in a flickering glow as Grillby walked in, looking all around before spying you. You could swear he gave you a dirty look when he saw the nice cream in Sans mouth.

"grillbz, you gotta start selling nice cream." the skeleton suggested "i feel so much better right now, you have no idea."

The bartender seemed to sigh, being careful of any moisture on the floor before tip-toeing in.

"You're still far from sober." he pointed out "Are you done being sick?"

With a loud, clumsy clattering, another person entered the room, panting from the exertion of having run here.

"I-I'm here!" a familiar voice announced.

Looking around the stall, you spotted Papyrus (most definitely not Stretch this time), hands on his knees as he caught his breath. He looked positively shocked to see you there, almost distraught even.

"Sam?" he squeaked out "Wh-wh-wh-what are you doing here?"

"Heard they had good cocktails, thought I'd drop in and try one." you lied "Your brother ended up drinking it, though."  

"it was good." Sans assured.

Papyrus let out a wretched sigh, finally standing straight, and rubbed his eye sockets.

"I just..." he sighed again "Let's just go home? Please?"

He seemed so defeated. You were glad you hadn't confronted Sans afterall, you'd hate to make this any worse on the boy. You got up easily, but Sans struggled a lot, not even getting to his knees before Papyrus picked him up and started to carry him. He wasn't even out of the door before Sans fell asleep in his arms. You went to follow, but Grillby laid a hand on your arm. To your surprise, it was only just pleasantly warm.

"I'll ignore it this time, since you helped us out." he told you "But don't bring food into my bar again. Okay?"

On the surface, his tone was confrontational, but years of experience in avoiding confrontation had sharpened your senses. He had been so unsure when he mentioned it before because he didn't know if you were someone he needed to be wary of, but he had more confidence now because he knew you weren't. 

"You want one?" you offered before you left, to which Grillby let out a startled laugh.

You just grinned and winked at him as you followed Papyrus out the door.

* * *

 

 

Luckily, you had the next day off, so were able to potter around making breakfast as Sans snored inelegantly on the couch, drooling a bright blue puddle onto the cushions. Papyrus had slept on the floor, leaving his duvet folded neatly to the side of the room when he left for work. Once you were done making breakfast and coffee, you poured a glass of cold water, threw a couple of ice cubes in it, and stirred it until the water was thoroughly chilled.

You grabbed a hand towel as you walked over to the sofa, and without any word of warning, poured the ice water over Sans' sleeping form. He let out the highest pitch scream you ever heard from someone with a voice so deep, flailing and floundering to the point that he fell off the sofa, landing in a tangle of limbs and blankets.

"what the fuck?!" he almost roared, before struggling out of his wooly prison and taking a good look around.

His face was completely slack as he beheld his surroundings. He clearly had no idea where he was, and when he looked at you, you knew he was wondering what had happened last night.

"Morning, chuckles." you greeted, handing him the towel to dry himself off "I'm Sam, I work with Papyrus. He bought you here when Grillby called him to drag your drunk ass home."

Relief washed over his face, followed by more confusion, then shame.

"uh... thanks..." he said quietly, wiping excess water from his skull "sorry to bother you more, but do you have any painkillers?"

"I'll check the cupboard." you offered "There's coffee and pancakes on the kitchen counter. Make sure you eat something before you start drinking again."

Your words must have had more sting to them than you thought, as you saw Sans wince before you headed for the bathroom. To your surprise, there was a box of monster suitable aspirin in the medicine cupboard. Did Papyrus leave it there? Regardless, you grabbed it and headed back to the living room, where Sans was pulling on his jacket.

"Aspirin okay?" you asked him.

"don't bother." he grumbled in return, not even looking at you "i know when i'm not wanted."

He went to march out the front door, but you stood in front of it. He was immediately pissed, eye twitching as he glared up at you. He must have one hell of a hangover.

"Eat some breakfast." you ordered "You'll be sick again if you don't get some food in you."

"what the fuck business is it of yours?" Sans snapped back "let me pass!"

"Papyrus and his happiness are my business." you replied coldly "He's my friend, and you're his brother. It would make him happy if you were taken care of, so that's what I'm going to do."

"is that why you were really at grillby's last night?" he challenged "to 'take care' of me?"

"So you remember."

"i've always been cursed with an excellent memory." he all but growled "might take a minute, but it always comes back in the end."

"Is that why you get drunk? To help you forget?"

His eye lights went out, and he stared at you slack jawed for a moment, before they reignited in a rage.

"y'know what, fuck you!" Sans hissed, grabbing your arm to move you himself.

Remembering how light he was, you easily pushed him back. He was shocked as his butt landed back on the sofa, but he shouldn't have been so impressed - it was a very small flat. He flinched as you placed the bottle of aspirin on the coffee table, crossing your arms.

"Have some breakfast." you said again "Then I won't stop you from leaving. Deal?"

He continued to glare at you, pushing himself back up. You could see the gears turning in his eyes, even as he winced from the pain in his head. He finally laughed, a bitter, humourless noise.

"papyrus' 'friend', huh?" he challenged "let's just cut to the chase, shall we? i know what you really want."

"And what is that?" you replied.

"the goss." he said "the dirt. the skeletons in the closet. pun fully intended. you're just an interfering human with no life of their own, so you stick your fucking nose into other peoples."

"Spare me the diatribe." you started "Whatever's going on is none of my business-"

"no, no, you wanted to know!" Sans insisted, getting back to his feet "you came to grillby's to talk to me, right? so let's talk! you want to know why i'm a fucking drunk? why papyrus is a nervous wreck?!"

He was clearly trying to intimidate you as the volume of his voice rose, but you didn't back down. His voice was the only aggressive thing about him - his body language was defensive, like he was afraid you were going to attack him. He let out that humourless laugh again.

"the big family secret-"

"You don't have to-"

"-oh, it's a good one!"

"Just eat some fucking pancakes, Sans."

"papyrus is my son!"

The confession exploded out of him like the cap off a volcano, like he'd been just dying to tell someone, anyone, and get the weight of it off his chest.

"papyrus is my son," he repeated, voice wavering " _and_ my brother. i was abused by my father, and papyrus was the result. that's why i drink. to forget the things he did. happy now?"

"Why would that make me happy, Sans?"  

"you got the answers you wanted." he said, almost as if taunting you "the mystery of the gaster family wrapped up in one neat bow. aren't you satisfied? and no, papyrus doesn't know."

"I had guessed."

He had asked you about his mother, after all. He wouldn't have if he knew the truth.

"tell him if you want." Sans added, bitter and strained as he struggled to cope with being sober "i'm pretty sure i don't care any more. the reset took everything good from my life, and left me with _this_. i don't even know what happened when. it's like i've lived a million lives at once... you can't imagine what this feels like..."

'The reset'... did Sans remember what happened before the world changed? You hadn't discussed it with anyone, but no-one had bought it up with you either.

"You're right." you told him anyway "I can't imagine what that's like. I just woke up one day in a different world, with no idea how it works. I went to sleep hiding in a cupboard, scared for my life, and woke up in a world where monsters are roaming around and magic is practised on the street. It was jarring enough when it happened once, I can't imagine what it must be like to do it more than that."

His eye lights went out again. He looked like he didn't know what to say.

"you remember?" he settled on.

"I remember the world the way it was." you confirmed "I can tell you the exact day it changed."

"and?"

"And what?"

"and what are you going to do about it?"

"Do? I'm already doing it." you shrugged "I'm getting on with my life, Sans. I can't change the world. I just have to make the most of the cards I've been dealt."

There was that humourless laugh again. He swayed a little - perhaps his body was just so used to it after being drunk so much that it had become his idle animation.

"you really take things in stride, don't you?" he said, both criticising and praising you at the same time "you were more upset i didn't eat your damn pancakes..."

An uncomfortable silence fell. Sans shoved his hands in his pockets, looking decidedly at the ground as he processed what had been said. You guessed he was mulling over his confession, but you could be wrong.

"i don't think we're going to achieve anything else in this meeting." he said after a moment "any new business before we adjourn? i want to get back to grillby's before someone sits on my stool - i finally got the ass groove just the way i like it."

"Just one thing." you confirmed.

"oh yeah?"

"When do you start taking responsibility for yourself?" you challenged.

"excuse me?" he practically gasped.

"What happened to you was a travesty." you began "It never should have been allowed, and your father deserves to burn in hell for what he did. But we aren't talking about him - we're talking about you."

Sans got even more defensive, curling in on himself and burying his hands further in his pockets.

"You think you're the only person in the world who had fucked up shit happened to them as a kid?" you asked "I saw my father beaten and burned to death by witch hunters. The foster care system is full of kids whose parents are just as bad as yours, if not worse. No matter what happens, the world is a fucked up place, and you need to learn how to live in it. The difference between a victim and a survivor is the choices they make, and as long as you choose to live at the bottom of a bottle, you'll be his victim."

"are you fucking done?" Sans snapped.

"Me? Never." you swore "But I've said my piece. You can leave now."

He didn't waste any time, marching over to you as he headed to the door. You caught him by his shoulder, pretending not to notice the way he flinched at your touch.

"He already took your past." you finished "Don't let him ruin your future too."

Sans was silent for a moment, almost as if he was considering your words, before his face broke into another snarl.

"fuck you." he hissed, pulling his shoulder away and opening the door, slamming it closed behind him.

You took a moment to calm down - conflict wasn't really your forte, and you hadn't had an argument like that since your mother was alive. That, and... well, that was a hell of a bomb to drop. He had been so eager to tell you, you could only imagine it had been burning him up inside. That, and he remembered the reset. From what he said, it sounded like there had been far more than one, which raised even more questions. 

With a sigh, you took up one of the coffee's you had poured and adjusted it to your liking. As you watched the drink swirl in the mug, a thought occurred to you - becoming an alcoholic doesn't happen overnight. Sans had woken up from the reset with this addiction. Had he been one before? You had probably screwed over any chance you had to ask him more about the resets, but what happens twice happens thrice, so you were sure you wouldn't be the only ones who remembered the world before.

The day passed in a blur, and before you knew it Papyrus was knocking on your door with a takeaway and a nervous wave. As you got the plates and cutlery, he told you breathlessly about every single customer the shop had had that day.

You didn't tell him what Sans had said. You didn't think you ever would.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a completely different note, things are about to get crazy at work, so updates may be slowing down for a bit.
> 
> Remember to comment, not just on my work, but any you enjoy!


	5. Recall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapters a little short since work is so busy, but I didn't want to leave it too long between updates.

Sans stirred the thickening porridge in his bowl, head in his other hand, not really paying attention to anything. Your words were weighing on him, along with everything else that had made its home on his shoulders.

'At what point do you start taking responsibility for yourself?'

Fuck you, what the hell did you know? You were just some busybody, none of it was any of your business.

'As long as you choose to live at the bottom of a bottle, you'll always be his victim.'

He was done taking responsibility. It was all he had ever done, reset after reset, life after life. It wasn't fair. When did he get to live for himself? And what did you know about his life? Nothing, that's what.

'I fell asleep in a cupboard, scared for my life.'

...

Why?

No, he didn't care. He didn't.

He didn't.

...

But he knew you. Whenever he looked at you, he felt like he was looking at his best friend. He also felt incredibly angry when he looked at you. It was a very confusing duo of emotions. He wracked his brain, trying to think where he had met you. Was it in a previous reset? That time he was a sentry? Or maybe when he sold hotdogs? Or when he was a scientist?

Everything was starting to mush together. He had been a comedian at some point. After that - or maybe before? - he had been a judge. He had done a lot of fighting in a bright yellow room. He had won. He had lost. He had won. He remembered working down in the labs. Sometimes he was his fathers assistant, sometimes his test subject, sometimes ignored completely. On occasion he would live in the lab, but more often he didn't.

Sometimes, his father was a good man. Especially in the beginning, when he was trying so damn hard to get things right. That stopped after a while, as he starting pushing the boundaries of what he could get away with reset after reset, and developed a dangerous and ultimately sick obsession with his son. Then the bastard had the temerity to go and fall into the core and...

Wait, was he remembering that right? Hadn't the resets started long after that? The flower, and the kid... what the hell was that kids name?

God, he needed a drink.

"Knock knock."

He looked up as Papyrus called him softly, rapping his knuckles on the table. His brother... _his son_... smiled at him demurely and put a cup of coffee in front of him.

"Do you want milk?" he asked.

"nah, bro. thanks."

Papyrus smiled again and went back to the washing up.

That was the one thing he could never forgive him for. For all his neglect, his abuse, his unreachable standards... Sans could have forgiven his father for a lot of it, as long as he had his brother. But then that man had to go and take that away from him as well, turn his relationship with him into something bad. Reset after reset, Papyrus had been Sans only joy, their brotherly bond strong no matter what happened, so of course that man took it away. Ensured he couldn't look at his brother without remembering the things he had done to him, the pain of giving birth when he was _so young_.

Thinking about it made him feel sick. He needed a drink. He just wanted this reset to end. He wanted the real Papyrus back.

"How did you get along with Sam the other day?" said Papyrus suddenly asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"not great." he admitted, still idly stirring his porridge, but declined to elaborate.

Papyrus just sighed, nodding.

"Sam can be a little... difficult to get to know." he confessed "Very blunt and serious. They're just very stoic, but once you get to know them-"

"i have no interest in getting to know them, paps."

"I think the two of you would be good friends." he went on anyway "You both have a terrible sense of humour, for a start."

"they have a sense of humour?" Sans chuckled.

"Occasionally." Papyrus responded "Just yesterday at work I made Sam laugh so hard they did a spit-take all over the till. Margaret thought it was the funniest thing!"

Sans couldn't help but smile. When Papyrus spoke like this, so full of energy, it was almost like the way he should be - energetic, happy, confident. Whenever he spoke about his work, he did so with such fondness that Sans couldn't help but become fond of the two of you as well.

Oh, wait, it was _you_ , wasn't it? There's another confusing emotion to add to the pile.

Both skeletons froze. Somewhere in the house, something had made a sound. Over their lives, they had both become acutely aware of whenever there was a noise that they didn't make. With them both being in the same room, that could only mean one thing. Sharing a look for no more than a moment, Papyrus finished the dishes in seconds and wiped his hands dry, Sans downing his porridge and throwing the bowl and spoon in the sink, all without a sound. By the time Papyrus was ready, Sans had grabbed his work bag for him, and soon shortcutted them away to anywhere that wasn't this house.

* * *

 

Like anyone in search on information, you had two options - printed media, or the internet. Since your ongoing research into his new reality had yielded nothing on the subject thus far, you held your nose, turned on your safe search, and tried online. You found a lot of psychological papers on deja vu and false memories, and an absolute glut of conspiracy theory sites, which you picked through with metaphorical tweezers rather than really get into. While most of what you found was useless, there was one thing that caught your eye.

They named themselves 'recallers', and they went back hundreds of years, possibly even longer. Much like the illuminati, the truth of their activities was hidden behind a wall of entertaining roumers and lies, but it was their central concept that grabbed you: they believed that time had been rewound and changed, and that they alone could remember the way things had been before. They operated like some kind of cult, recruiting others to their... was 'cause' really the word to apply to them? They didn't really seem to do anything. It didn't escape you how long they had been around, their numbers suddenly ballooning at random, then dying away again in waves.

You remembered the reset perfectly, knew exactly what day it had been. And yes, it had changed the entire world, including history as far back as the written word, but for there to have been recallers for just as long...

Sans said there had been more than one reset.  If that was true, then did the swelling of the recaller ranks give some clue as to when they happened? And why could you only remember one? 

Great, now you just had more questions. Scrolling idly through the recallers official website (because of course they had an official website, no one in this reality kept anything a secret. Even when you would prefer they did...) you noticed they were having an open meeting next week, and had put the call out for people to join them. It wasn't far away, either. If they were legit, you could see another recruitment boom in their future. If, that is...

If they were legit, you might be able to find some clues as to why this happened, or maybe even how. If they weren't,  you've lost nothing in finding out. Its not like you going to get your hopes up - even if you knew exactly how and why, its not like you could do anything about it,  right?

Your thoughts strayed a moment. Would you, if you could?

...

...

...

There was a frantic pounding on the front door, startling you out of your thoughts. Your immediate thought was that it was the burners, that they had found you, that you needed to hide! After a moment you remembered that you hadn't seen hide nor hair of them since waking up in this reality, and did you really expect them to knock? You looked at the time on your laptop - close to midnight. Who on earth was at your door this time of night? The knocking was odd too, inconsistent in volume and rhythm.

You grabbed the bat that lived in the umbrella stand and looked through the peephole in the door. With a weary sigh, you dropped it again and unlatched the lock.

"and another thing!" Sans yelled the second you opened the door, reeking of whiskey and greasy food, plastic bag in one hand "who the hell pours ice water on people to wake them up?! that's just cruel and unusual!"

"Why are you here, sans?" you asked.

"to tell you you're a bastard!"

"Well, mission accomplished. Get in here before you wake the neighbours."

"let them hear me! they deserve to know you're a bastard too!"

"Uh huh."

You grabbed his skull and pulled him inside, locking the door behind him. You couldn't let him wander around in this state. Luckily,  Papyrus hadn't been staying over tonight,  so the sofa was free. Still with your hand on his skull, you walked him over to it, Sans following without objection despite his explosive entry. He only resisted when you went to push him onto it, throwing up the hand that held the plastic bag.

You shot him a look, but took it anyway. Inside was a box of nice cream. Before you could ask him anything, he grabbed the sides of your face and smushed his teeth into your lips. Was... was this supposed to be a kiss? He stepped back before you could even get angry at him, swaying on drunken knees.

"The fuck, dude?"

"i don't know either!" he confessed, throwing his arms up theatrically before faceplanting onto the sofa.

Immediately, he started to snore. Sans was... an interesting little gremlin. You covered him with Papyrus' duvet and threw the nice cream in the freezer before heading to bed yourself.


	6. Overcrowded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive, I swear! I did say work was going to get busy, and suddenly my manager had to have an operation, so she's been off as well, right as we had stocktake and a new hire and the flaming roof caved in because WHO PUTS A FLAT ROOF ON A BUILDING IN ENGLAND?!?!?! ... 
> 
> ... I've been very busy.

You didn't think it was possible to have too much nice cream, but it turned out you were wrong. Your little freezer was now full of the stuff, and it was spilling over into the fridge as well. At least it didn't melt, or else you'd have to throw away the boxes and boxes of delicious frozen treats you had accumulated.

You eyed the culprit and source of your growing collection as he snored indignantly on the sofa, drooling a softly glowing blue spittle onto the floor. On the other side of the coffee table was Papyrus, still lying on the blow up mattress he had bought when Sans nightly visitations became just as regular as his own, duvet over his head as he played on his phone. When had this become normal? A tall nervous skeleton and his alcoholic brother just bunking in your living room as if they were here every day... although, they kind of were.

"I'm going to start charging you assholes rent." you grumbled in place of 'good morning'.

"Sounds fair." Papyrus agreed without even taking his eyes from his phone.

"put it on my tab." Sans replied, apparently awake enough to have heard you.

"You don't have a tab." you reminded him.

"damn. my wallet's... over there."

He waved a hand in a random direction. Papyrus reached his hand under his mattress and pulled out Sans wallet, handing it to you. You didn't ask.

"I was joking, but considering how much the bills have gone up, I won't say no either." you admitted, taking a few notes before handing it back.

Papyrus put it back under the mattress. Again, you didn't ask, instead going to put the kettle on.

You knew why they didn't go home if they could help it. They never spoke about their father, outside of that one conversation with Sans, even when they thought you couldn't hear them - it was almost like they were afraid he would appear if they mentioned him. You still didn't even know his name, but you weren't in a rush to learn it either. If they both hated the man so much (which you knew they did), why did they still live under his roof? It was something you had never asked them, but it had never felt like a good time to bring it up.

"If you guys can afford to pay me rent, why don't you get your own place?" you started "And quit freeloading on my sofa."

"You can't just _get_ your own place." Papyrus excused, eyes still glued to his phone "You need things. Like, proof of income, and a deposit, and furniture."

"and a guarantor." Sans added "And your sofa is comfy."

You took the febreeze from under the sink and started spraying Sans down with it. He smelled like he had vomited in a dumpster, then fell asleep in it. Again. He put up a token resistance, but ultimately let it happen.

"Papyrus, you have proof of income." you reminded him "Besides that, you guys don't exactly seem to be hurting for money."

"trust funds." Sans admitted with all the enthusiasm of a wet tissue.

"So I'll be your guarantor." you offered "Now what's your excuse?"

Neither had an answer for you, just looking between each other. You busied yourself making a late Sunday morning brunch, and for a while the only noise was coming from Papyrus' game.

"all i can taste is vomit and fabreeze." Sans eventually complained.

"I wouldn't have to fabreeze you if you took a shower every now and then." you admonished.

"you can't just _take_ a shower." he excused, mirroring his brothers earlier tone.

"I disagree." you told him "You could take one literally right now. Literally five steps to your left. Literally. You have time."

"but then i have to get up. checkmate."

You grabbed Sans ankle and pulled him off the sofa. He hit the floor with an 'oof', but made no other attempt to move.

"i hate you." he grumbled.

"The feeling is mutual." you assured him "Now go have a shower, or I'll be bringing the shower to you. You know I will." 

"why are you such a bitch?"

"My house, my rules. Now git."

Sans grumbled the entire time, but eventually hauled his bones off the floor and trudged to the bathroom.

"And put your clothes in the hamper this time!" you yelled after him.

"yes, your highness!" he replied testily.

"Maybe I don't wash your clothes at all, smart guy?"

"my love, my starlight, light of my life, one whose kindness knows no bounds-!"

"Shut up and shower!"

The sniping at each other was cut short when Sans shut the bathroom door behind him, too hung over to slam it, and for a blissful moment there was silence.

"I don't think I'll ever get bored of watching you two trying to out bitch each other." Papyrus thought.

You threw your slipper at him ineffectually, just making him laugh, before you continued to prepare for the day.

* * *

 

You still weren't sure you really wanted to go, even when you were already half way there on the train. What could these Recallers tell you that would help? That the reset had happened? That you already knew. If they were just some crazy cult trying to drum up new members, you were really stepping into the lions den. But on the other hand, what if they did have answers? What if they knew how this happened, how to stop it happening again?

You made a deal with yourself - the second they asked for money or tried to debate with you, or you felt unsafe in any way, you were gone. You had your running shoes on, and weren't carrying any more money than it would take you to get home. It was true no-one knew where you were going (mostly because you were embarrassed to tell anyone), but you hadn't survived as long as you did in the world without learning how to escape a bad situation.

The Recallers meeting was being held in the conference room of a hotel - one of the cheaper brands,  but still a brand, which for some reason made you feel slightly better. A line of smartly dressed people were stood at the door, welcoming the unsure looking crowd with platitudes and reassurances, and your cult vibes went up another notch. You stayed on the edge of the group, avoiding the initiated members until you had more information, not touching any of the provided drinks, and settled in to watch the meeting unfold.

"Weaver?" a surprised voice called quietly.

Recognising the voice, you looked over - the smith from the market, the one who did your glasses, and his daughter. You nodded to him in mutual understanding as they came over, joining you in leaning against the wall.

"You remember too?" you asked.

The smith nodded seriously.

"I thought I was going nuts before my daughter said the same thing was happening to her." he admitted "We have a theory..."

He and his daughter shared a meaningful look before turning back to you.

"You told us about the reset threads." he reminded you "The day before this happened. I think that's why we remember."

"I wish I could confirm it either way, Smith, but I'm as clueless as you."

"Under the circumstances, please call me Bob." he insisted.

"Maisy." his daughter added.

"Hey, that's a nice one." you complimented her "Very cute."

"Thanks. It was my favourite book as a little kid." she admitted, blushing slightly.

"Have you guys spoken to anyone else?" you asked "Any of the other market vendors?"

Bob shook his head, but you understood. After so many lifetimes living in secret, talking about anything so personal would be difficult.

"Did you notice?" he asked you quietly.

"Notice?"

"Two o'clock."

You subtly look towards the right. It takes a moment to spot what he's talking about through the crowd, but when you do, your spine turns cold.

She's difficult to spot, not even being five foot tall. Not that it would matter - she's the kind of person that won't be seen unless they want to be, blending in with the shadows as if she had just walked out of them. She very well could have. You had never met her before, but every magician in the world knew her on sight, from the way her dark hair covered the burnt side of her face and the unnatural blue colour of her eye.

"What is the heir doing here?" you whispered, almost afraid she'll hear you.

"I figure either something real bad is about to go down." Bob answered, just as quiet "Or else the royal council doesn't know what's going on either."

The screeching wail of speaker feedback cut off any further conversation. Off to the side of the room was a small podium, where a man in a smart suit now stood, glaring daggers at the young man working the sound mixer. With a self-conscious laugh, he turned his attention back to the crowd.

"If you'll all kindly take your seats, ladies and gentlemen, we're about to begin."

It was always interesting to see the way people grouped together in an unfamiliar circumstance. There on the right hand side, close to the door, were the women who came here alone, sticking together like magnets. On the left, towards the back, the young men who came here alone, keen not to be seen as too eager to take part. At the front were the older people, lips pursed and lists full of questions clutched in their hands. A young couple looked out of place squatting uncomfortably in the middle. At the back, by the fire escape that no-one had really payed attention to, were the magicians. You, Bod and Maisy, and a few you didn't recognise, clustered in tense awareness. You didn't even notice the heir settle into the seat beside you until you reflexively checked the exit. She didn't even look at you, taking her phone from her jacket pocket and fiddling with it like a bored teenager.

Oh wait... she was.

You looked back at the podium as the speaker cleared his throat, silencing the mummer that had been lolling through the seated crowd.

"Thank you all for coming." he started again "My name is Felix, and I'll be chairing this meeting. It's a pleasure to see so many people here, but not entirely a surprise. I'm sure you all have a lot of questions, but please save them until after the presentation."

Felix gestured to someone at the back of the room, and immediately the lights flicked off, a projector sputtering to life, showing images of some ancient text, the papyrus battered almost to dust by aeons of wear.

"The first written evidence of a rewind was over two thousand years ago." Felix explained "What we have here is the diary of an ancient Egyptian priest, which details how the Nile flooded especially badly weeks before it was due, causing many fatalities. The next day, the waters had receded and the people that had died were alive again, not even remembering the experience."

The next slide showed a stone tablet that was either Mayan, Inca, or maybe even Aztec, but you weren't classically educated enough to know the difference. In the centre of the carving was what appeared to be a skull, but it was smooth and stylised, more like a skeleton monster, and deliberate lines had been carved up and down its face.

"A more recent example, but very much the same." he went on "A deadly disease spread across the land, killing innumerable people. Just when the last city was about to fall, time seemed to rewind, from summer back to winter, and everyone was alive again. On both occasions, monsters arrived to solve the issue - water based monsters used their magic to keep the Nile back until the land was evacuated, and monsters with healing magic stopped the disease from spreading. However, don't mistake the rewind for an auspicious event."

The slide changed, showing a painting you had seen often in your historical research. The King of Monsters, a colossal white furred... goat? Lion? Boss monster, decked out in armour, in the middle of a battle, all dark colours and dramatic lighting.

"The Battle of Mount Ebbott is well known - all children study it at school, monster and human alike. What they don't tell you is that the monsters actually lost, and the second the Monster King was felled, time rewound to before the battle. This happened every time the monster army lost, which was the chronicler estimated was close to three hundred times, and finally stopped when they were victorious."

You had come across the Battle of Mount Ebbott in your research: it read much like the tale of the Burning Mountain from before the reset, but with more historical facts. Instead of being banished under the mountain, the monsters had won an impossible victory, pushing the attacking humans back to what still remained the southern border. That Felix considered this victory 'inauspicious' didn't escape you. Taking a subtle look around, you realised there were no monsters in the room. You had gotten so used to them, it felt weird that there were none around. The red flag was small, but it was still there. Point two against the Recallers.

"History is littered with examples of the rewind phenomenon, all across the world." Felix went on "Samuel Pepys, Lady Margaret Hoby, Captain Scott, even Confucius noted the effects of the rewinds that occurred during their lifetimes."

The next slide was the Recallers symbol, a glyph somewhere between the Illuminati eye, the Freemasons compass and an hourglass. It looked like something an edgy teenager would come up with when doodling something 'meaningful' for their first tattoo. 

"Despite it's power, the rewind phenomenon isn't infallible - there have always been people who remembered the world as it was before, and as long as there have been rewinds, there have been Recallers. Sometimes the rewinds are significant, like the one that just passed. Sometimes they aren't, and happen seemingly for no reason. Regardless, the Recallers take note, recording history as it should be. As for why is happens..."

A new slide, this one picturing several monsters. The King and Queen, their young son, a massive bipedal turtle and a constipated looking skeleton with familiar cracks running up and down its face.

"Without exception, every significant rewind has benefited the monsters, be it victory in battle, successful negotiations, or even averting natural disasters. The young prince Asriel has been assassinated several times, but every time his life is revived by the rewind."

'Several' times? Poor kid. You didn't know him, of course, but he seemed like such a sweetheart from what you had seen of him on the news. You hoped he didn't remember any of the resets.

"There are currently four monsters alive today who were also alive when the rewinds began." Felix explained "King Asgore, Queen Toriel, General Gerson, and Royal Scientist Gaster. There's no doubt that if they aren't directly responsible for the rewinds, then they are in control of them. For what purpose? The advancement of monster kind, in order to become the dominant sentient species on the planet."

Aaand that's 3 points against the Recallers. It was true that relations between monsters and humans weren't perfect, but if monsters really were trying to take over the world then they were doing a damn poor job of it. They seemed more than happy with their own country, and not once in all the history books you had read had a war been started by them. Sure, Asgore could throw down with the best of them, and Gerson didn't get his moniker of 'Immortal Hammer' by losing all the time, but Toriel was smart and patient enough that monsters as a species managed to avoid most conflicts.

You thought of the monsters you knew - the skeleton brothers that squatted in your living room, leaving biscuit crumbs all over the place and overfeeding the neighbours cat. They were hardly 'take over the world' type people.

You realised with a start that you weren't the only one who had stopped listening. Bob, who had been leaning forward in his chair, was now sat back, looking bored, while Maisy looked vaguely uncomfortable. A plastic snap on your other side gave away that their heir was chewing bubble gum, eyes completely on her phone as she texted someone.

After the lecture, the people at the front of the seating area asked their questions, and every now and then someone further back butted in too, but you didn't learn anything else of use. Every 'why' was answered with 'monsters', every 'how' was answered with 'monsters', and when someone dared ask what they were doing about it, all Felix could do was none too subtly steer the conversation back to how it was all the monsters fault.

Eventually, the meeting ended, and your little group stayed silent as they filed out. Some people stayed to talk to the ~~cult members~~ Recallers, others talked in unsure huddles, while you thought better of hanging around, immediately making your way through the carpark. You were a good distance from the congregation before anyone spoke.

"That was a waste of time." Maisy grumbled "I feel kind of dirty after listening to all that."

Bob gave her a side hug as they walked, rubbing her arm in a fatherly manner.

"Maybe, maybe not." the heir said quietly.

You mentally scolded yourself for expecting her to have a high voice like a child. Despite being that short, she was a few years older than Maisy was.

"What do you mean, ma'am?" Bob asked.

"My name is Kei." she corrected, pulling a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and lighting one up "And what I learned is that they don't know shit."

"Should you really be smoking?" you asked her, earning yourself a cheeky grin.

"Think it'll stunt my growth?" she replied.

"What makes you think they don't know anything?" Maisy defused "They had all those historical texts and-"

"Samuel Pepys?" Kei recalled "Captain Scott? Confucius? Those are buzz words, shorthand for historical diarists and wise ancients. Fuck, I'm surprised they didn't drag Ann Frank into it."

"World War 2 never happened here." you knew.

"And the texts," she went on "Aztecs and Egyptians? I mean fuck, did Clive Cussler come up with that? It's a lazy narrative. And blaming everything on monsters? The final lazy cherry on the lazy cake."

"You think there's any truth to it at all?" Bob asked unsurely "Everything's changed so much..."

"We're still looking into it." Kei replied noncommittally, taking a drag "But let me ask you something: is the world worse now?"

The question seemed to take Bob and Maisy by surprise, but what shocked you was that you had wondered that exact thing yourself.

"Understanding why this happened is important." the heir elaborated "Turning back time should be impossible in an infinitely expanding universe, the maths just doesn't add up... but regardless of why and how, we need to seriously consider whether or not returning things to the way they were is for the best of not. I want you to seriously think about it."

She looked pointedly at you when she said that, and you got the feeling she knew more than she was letting on.

"Not just for yourself and your circle, but for the entire world." she pressed, eyes still locked on you "Are things worse than they were before?"

The diminutive magician finished her cigarette, stubbing out the butt beneath her battered trainers.

"The threads of fate are complicated things." she finished cryptically "Cut the wrong one and the whole tapestry can fall apart. Good night, Smiths. Weaver."

Without another word, Kei turned and walked away, fading into the shadows as if she had never been there at all. You couldn't imagine having magic like that. Magic that was actually worth a damn. You adjusted your glasses self-consciously as the three of you continued to the train station.  

* * *

 

They hadn't bloody moved. Sans was still asleep on the sofa, only now next doors overweight cat was loafed on his lower back, presumably having climbed through the open window, while Papyrus had at least emigrated from underneath the duvet to on top of it, still fiddling with his phone. Perhaps sensing your completely lack of being impressed, your colleague reached to the stack of boxes on the coffee table and handed you one.

"We ordered you a pizza." he informed you "It's your favourite~."

You took the box from him, taking a peek. Damn, it _was_ your favourite. You could only sigh as you kicked off your shoes, dropping down heavily on the sofa (startling both Sans and the cat awake), and turned the channel on the TV. Papyrus immediately went back to his phone, Sans shuffling up the sofa just enough to put his feet in your lap as you found a Mettaton film to watch.

 

 


	7. Under and Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit, this one's just not coming out as easily as the last few. Maybe because I'm taking longer to get the chapters out with work being so busy? Maybe I'm just tired.
> 
> The only thing more terrible than writing is not writing.

It wasn't busy at all when you arrived at work. For whatever reason, Papyrus had asked to switch shifts with you so he could work in the morning and you in the afternoon. You suspected it was so he could run home and grab some clean clothes before his father got back from work, but you weren't exactly going to ask him. You were surprised to see Margaret scowling over a newspaper when you arrived, something you hadn't witnessed since the reset.

"Everything okay?" you asked her.

Your manager grumbled unhappily.

"Just reading Lady Mei Lin's latest rant." she told you.

"Ah."

"Who's Lady Mei Lin?" Papyrus asked, appearing from the back room with a box of restock.

"The magician queen." you explained simply.

"She really hates monsters..." Margaret admitted.

"...Oh..." he said, sounding very small, as if the two of you were going to start hating him as well.

"Don't take it personally." you shrugged "She also hates all men, all white people, all black people, the 'wrong type' of Asian people, the mentally disabled, and Capricorns."

The last one made the skeleton cock his head in confusion, but you just shrugged again. Honestly, the list of people the magician queen didn't needlessly hate was much shorter. Papyrus looked understandably uncomfortable, fingers fiddling with the corners of the box he was holding.

"I... h-have to say I'm surprised..." he admitted.

Oh god, the stutter...

"I-if your queen is such a b-bigot... not that I'm saying she is!"

"She is." you agreed.

"Completely is." Margaret confirmed.

"T-then why a-aren't you at... war... with anyone?" he finished so quietly you struggled to hear him.

"Because we aren't a nation." you told him simply, finally slipping off your coat and bag to hang them up "Magicians are just humans, and we're all over the place."

"Only around 1 in every 10,000 humans has magic." Margaret assured the nervous skel as you rounded the back of the till "Hardly an army."

Papyrus hummed, clearly thinking a moment.

"You could be a nation." he pondered "Not a big one..."

There was an awkward pause from both you and Margaret, and it didn't go unnoticed from Papyrus.

"Am I wrong?" he asked.

"Papyrus honey, didn't you do sex ed at school?" Margaret asked him.

"It was mostly focused on monsters..." he admitted, blushing a little.

You rounded the counter again, picking up the days job list and looking over it before you replied. Margaret looked uncomfortable, clearly not expecting or ready to give Papyrus 'the talk'.

"All magician men are sterile." you said bluntly, causing his head to snap to you suddenly "We literally can't survive without non-magical humans."

"All of them?!" Papyrus gasped, back up to his usual volume "Why?!"

"Nobody knows." Margaret admitted.

"Magic isn't exactly good for humans, Paps." you went on "Ever notice that there are none over 60? Hell, Lady Mei Lin is 78, she may as well be Methuselah to us."

Now the poor skel looked downright concerned, eyeing you and Margaret warily, as if you might expire right in front of him.

"Oh, don't worry, sweetheart." she cooed "Sam and I both have passive magic. It doesn't drain your life force nearly as quickly as active magic does." 

A look of understanding crossed his face. You assumed he knew all about passive and active magic - having to explain the basics of magic to a monster would be... awkward. Considering they were made of it. Papyrus hummed to himself, and you saw him flexing his fingers against the box he was holding, probably thinking about the magic holding his bones together: passive magic, completely uncontrollable, almost undefinable, but as constant as the sky.

"Humans with active magic..." he pondered quietly "Die young?"

"Another cruel trick of magic." you confirmed "It's next to useless, and it slowly kills us, but if we don't learn how to control it then it kills us a whole lot quicker."

"I've never thought of magic as a bad thing before..." he admitted "It's just something so natural for monsters, but... it sounds like a real curse for humans."

You walked over to him, patting his shoulder in a fraternal fashion.

"Don't think about it too hard." you recommended "It'll drive you to drink."

You regretted the words the second they left your mouth, a certain chubby smiling alcoholic coming to your mind, but Papyrus didn't seem to notice you even said it, lost in his own thoughts. Without another word, he got back to work, and you and Margaret exchanged a brief look before you did the same.

 

* * *

 

You hated getting home so late at night. Your body just objected to the whole thing, begging you to go to bed, but you had to make dinner, and you needed shower after taking the train so late at night with the drunks. 

Speaking of drunks.

There was a bottle of whiskey sat on the coffee table - the fancy kind that was sealed with wax and cost more than you made in a month - and it was half empty, but the resident lush was nowhere to be seen. The lights were all on, and the door had been locked when you arrived. The place wasn't that big, so you threw your bag into your bedroom, put on your comfy trousers and used the bathroom, thereby covering every other room in the flat, before you returned to the main room. That's when you saw him.

"Sans, what are you doing under the coffee table?" you asked.

"i didn't fit in the trash." he told you quietly.

Looks like he's throwing a pity party. You grabbed a glass and a few ice cubes, a couple of nice creams, and poured yourself a whiskey, dropping onto the floor. With a shuffle and a light warp of visible space, you were lain with him under the table. You handed him one of the nice creams, which he immediately shoved in his mouth. There were light blue tear-tracks on his boney cheeks, and the edges of his eye lights were slightly red. You had stopped questioning how that would even work weeks ago, instead just noting that he had clearly been crying for a while.

"This is some expensive drain cleaner." you noted, taking a sip of your drink.

"i'm not trying to save that bastard money." he confessed, slurping his nice cream "where's paps?"

"Had to go bail out one of your cousins, said he'd be back by morning. He said something about him eating a dog?"

Sans was confused a moment, before understanding crossed his face.

"Must be Axe." he figured "That guy's crazy."

He laughed humorlessly, finishing his nice cream and pulling the stick from his mouth.

"every time he resets, reality unravels a little more." he grumbled, taking a drink "pretty soon there'll just be a big ol' hole in it. every reset there's more monsters, more 'cousins', more tears in space time... what's he even trying to do any more? i don't even know..."

"'He'?" you pried.

Did Sans know who was causing the resets? Was it a person doing it? How? He never talked about it sober, or when his brother was around.

"i can't prove anything." he admitted "i know he's doing it, but i can't prove it."

He hiccuped, wiping the new tears from his face. You felt him shuffle into you a little, but you didn't back away. Instead, you finished your drink and poured yourself a new one, topping up Sans glass while you were at it.

"not gonna lecture me?" he asked, affecting your voice "'i said no drinking in my house, sans!'" 

"When you're sober." you promised him "You'll just forget if I lecture you now."

He laughed again, burying his head on his arms. He lay so perfectly still, you weren't sure that he hadn't fallen asleep, except that his index finger rhythmically tapped on his glass.

"how was work?" he asked, voice muffled by his sleeves.

"Fine." you shrugged, taking a sip "How was your day?"

He lifted his head, opening his mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it, slumping back down again.

"That good, huh?"

He reached under his prone form, still without looking at you, and pulled out a magazine, passing it to you. You saw quickly enough that it was a property magazine, various flat and house listings circled in red pen. Beside them was the neat, small handwriting and flamboyant scrawl of both skeleton brothers, comparing notes and ideas. 'KITCHEN IS TOO SMALL' 'ok' 'THIS ONE IS TOO FAR TO COMMUTE' 'ok' 'WILL YOU PLEASE HAVE AN OPINION ON SOMETHING' 'ok' 'SANS I'M SERIOUS' 'i thought you were papyrus' 'SANS!!!'

"Some of these places are pretty nice." you noted, glad that he was actually taking positive steps in his life.

"sure are." he agreed, as enthusiastic as a slowly melting glacier.

"This is a great move for you guys, finally getting out on your own, becoming properly independent." you went on "It can only be good for your relationship."

"can only hope." he replied in the same manner.

"So the problem is?"

The tapping on the glass got faster for a moment, before Sans suddenly threw his whole drink back, refilling it once again.

"what's the point?" he asked, voice wavering "everything's just gonna be reset again. why should i bother? it's all just gonna get taken away."

You felt him shift closer again, like he was trying to occupy the same space as you. You put your arm around his shoulders, and you could feel him shaking slightly.

"So what?" you pondered.

He finally looked up at you, bright blue tears threatening his face again. He was confused, and drunk, and seeking affection, and you couldn't help but smile at his adorable gremlin face.

"A good thing is a good thing, right?" you told him "Who cares how many times you have to do it? I might get depressed when I finish a good book, but that doesn't mean I can't read it again. Sure, I can never experience it like it was the first time, but each time I read it, I'll pick up on things I never noticed before."

"it's not the same thing." he disagreed "how would you feel if you had to read only that book forever, and you were only ever able to get half way through before you had to start again?"

"Who says it has to be the same book?" you countered "Can't you decide you want to read something different this time?"

"what's the point in starting a new one when you know you'll never get to the end?!"

You opened your mouth to ask him what 'the end' in this analogy would be, and suggest how you could always skip to it, but before you even took a breath your brain rejected the idea. Sans was an alcoholic, and clearly depressed: any talk of 'skipping to the end' would probably have... unintended consequences. Instead, you just rubbed his back.

"I don't know how to help you, Sans." you admitted "There's nothing I can say that you won't refute. What can I do to make you believe in the future?"

He paused, alcohol addled brain considering your question carefully, and you felt him start to shake harder, occasionally lurching as he pulled in a shuddering breath.

"d-don't leave me again." he sobbed, dropping his head back to his arms.

Good god, he was legitimately crying!

"When did I leave you?" you asked, confused as to what he was talking about.

Ever since that night he turned up at your door drunk and bearing nice-cream, you hadn't got rid of him longer than it took you to go to work, day drinking at Grillby's and stumbling back with a kebab before you got home. 

Sans went quiet at that. Was it something his drunk mind had conjured up, or was he remembering some reset that you didn't? You thought that even he didn't know the answer anymore.

* * *

 

Sans fell asleep not long after that. It was easier to move the coffee table than it was to try and pull him out from under it, and soon he was sleeping it off on the sofa. You poured the rest of the whiskey down the sink: you'd give the little skel hell tomorrow for breaking the one rule you had actually laid down, but that was tomorrow's problem. Now you were even more tired, and slightly drunk, you decided to skip dinner entirely and just go to bed.

A lifetime of looking over your shoulder was difficult to unlearn, and you would have missed the dark flash of movement entirely if you hadn't been so naturally paranoid. Your first thought was Sans, sleeping on the sofa - would you need to protect him? - but you stayed quiet, listened, and observed. 

There, on the wall. A shadow of a person. A person who wasn't you. A shadow that was connected to nothing.

There was a sharp knock on your bedroom window, making you flinch towards it. When you looked back at the shadow, it was gone. Starting to get more pissed off than frightened, you threw open your curtains and found a small figure sat on your fire escape. How did she even get up... you know what, never mind.

"That was one of your shadows, wasn't it?" you grumbled accusingly as you opened the window, Kei's unnatural blue eyes staring back at you in the dim orange light or the street lamps.

"Guilty." she admitted easily "But I've learned not to let myself into other peoples houses. It's a good way to get shot. Again."

You rubbed your eyes, really not in the mood for this.

"What do you want?" you grumbled.

Your sober brain suddenly screamed at you, reminding you that this was the most powerful human magician currently alive, not to mention the future queen, and you had just mouthed her off. She didn't seem the slightest bit upset, however, giving you a wide grin that showed off the gap in her front teeth.

God, she was so _young_...

"Don't worry, this won't take long." she promised "May I come in?"

You relented, now feeling guilty for snapping at a child, and backed away from the window to let her into the room. She climbed in as if it was second nature, which you supposed it would be for someone that short.

"Okay, I've been doing some research." she told you "And I want to see if something is true."

"Okay?"

She suddenly squatted down, pulling the bag from her back and rifling through it. Were those school books? Your stomach twisted uncomfortably - she had seemed so grown up and in charge that night at the Recallers meeting. Was that because she was there on official business? What was she like normally? Did she hang out with friends, play videogames, get in trouble with her parents like other kids? Sure, she was in her late teens, but having been there and done it, you knew there was still a wide gulf between that and adulthood.

Finding what she was looking for, she held out a large pair of scissors to you, which you took curiously. They weren't enchanted or anything, and they looked like fabric scissors.

"So, what are we doing?" you asked.

"I want you to try cutting a thread."

She said it so bluntly that you dropped the scissors in your shock, them making a dull 'thud' on the bedroom carpet.

"Are you crazy?!" you hissed, not wanting to wake up Sans "I can't do that!"

"Have you ever tried?" she asked innocently.

"Well... no..." you replied honestly "But I can't just cut a vital thread! Who knows what could happen! I can't go messing with people's lives like that!"

"Normally I would agree." Kei assured "But if cutting the right thread could stop the resets, wouldn't it be nice to know?"

Now stood, she raised her hand, palm down. The scissors floated up to meet it, and she handed them back to you.

"I'll be your guinea-pig." she offered, eyes staring straight into your soul "Pick one of my threads, and try to cut it."

Your hand was shaking when you took the scissors back. You didn't want to do this. Every fibre of you was screaming that it was wrong. You can't just go around cutting people's threads!

But the 'reset' thread...

But correlation isn't causation!

But if you don't try you'll never know...

But so much could go wrong!

Kei waited patiently while you argued with yourself. In the end, you had no choice. You had to find out if this was possible. If it wasn't, you had lost nothing, but if it was... you would cross that bridge later.

You took your glasses off, holding out your non-dominant hand for the heir to take. Her tiny hand in yours made you feel like a giant, and made her seem all the more fragile. You had to remind yourself just who she was.

She had a lot a threads. Very few family, but a good amount of friends, and possibly hundreds of acquaintances and 'work friends'. You tried to pick one she wouldn't miss, one that wouldn't have any profound affect on her life.

"How about 'next doors baby." you suggested.

"Aw, I like Rani." she objected "Is there a 'biological dad' thread?"

"Yes?"

What a weird question - of course there would be, unless her mother reproduced asexually.

"Cool," she replied "Cut that."

Her voice was ice cold, so much that you couldn't help but shiver. You didn't even need to look at the thread to know what it was going to say about their relationship. You didn't even need to ask her if she was sure as you picked the thread out, it's midnight black and twists of red standing out against the gentler and brighter colours of relationships that were good. You held the scissors up to the taught thread carefully, focusing your full intent on it. You absolutely did NOT want to cut any other thread.

"Here goes nothing." you breathed so quietly that even you hardly heard it.

You snipped the scissors over the thread.

What happened after that was a blur. All you knew was that you were in a lot of pain, so much that you couldn't even see. You felt something hard, sturdy, and cold at your hands, a boiling heat rising from your throat, thick and metallic, and spilling out again. There was a small hand on your back, cooing and rubbing softly. Someone was talking calmly. Something was running down your face, too thick to be tears, and from your nose.

"Is that blood?!"

Papyrus?

"Sans, wake up!" he screamed at his brother "Call an ambulance!!"

You hadn't even realised you were falling until you were caught, hard bones holding you steady.

"Sam? Sam, what happened?!"

Papyrus was very large. Where had that tiny hand gone?

You vaguely heard a pounding on the door before the whole world slipped away.

* * *

 

Fuck, it was bright. Hadn't you closed the curtains last night? Why was your bed so uncomfortable? It felt like you were lying on a gym mat with a cloth on it. And what was that sharp thing in your hand?

Your consciousness came back slowly, your eyes adjusting to the brightness of the room. It took you an embarrassingly long time to realise this wasn't your bedroom, but considering you had just woken up in the hospital, you were willing to give yourself a break. After a few minutes you remembered why you were there - you had tried to cut a thread, and that one act of magic had nearly killed you. God, you must have been bleeding out of every orifice. You can't imagine how scared the skeletons must have been.

The familiar smell of greasy food and ketchup met your nose, causing you to look around - a certain blue coat was draped over your lap, its owner sat on the chair beside your bed, asleep with his arms crossed. In one skeletal hand was a pamphlet: 'Alcohol and You, How to Regain Control'. You imagined the hospital staff must have given it to him. How long had you been asleep?

Under the fog of greasy food was another smell - floral, but without the acrid sting of scented cleaners. Had Papyrus bought you flowers? Seemed like the kind of thing he would do. You found them sat on the table on your other side, but they obviously weren't from Papyrus - a small bouquet of forget-me-nots in a mason jar, the nice white ribbon tied around the neck the only thing that stopped it looking like it was hastily plucked from someones garden. Next to it was a small card, upon which childish handwriting had been hastily scrawled.

'I O U 1.

\- K' 


	8. Atropos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Kitkatchild for the inspiration for the chapter title!

Sans' metaphorical ears were still ringing. Your boss had been _mad_. Not that you were going to be off work for almost a month, which would have been anyone's first guess, but because of the reason you were in the hospital in the first place. 'Magical overexertion', the doctor had called it, and apparently it was a very real problem for human magicians, since their bodies were made of water and carbon rather than magic. No-one knew exactly what you had done to cause it, since your magic was known to be passive, but it had very nearly killed you: it took 3 days of pumping magic into your bright yellow soul before you stabilised, and you had had at least one skeleton at your side at all times.

It was Papyrus screaming that woke Sans up - a sound he never wanted to hear, and would be very happy to never hear again. His brother never screamed, even when that human kid... when that human kid...

What had that human kid done? It was on the tip of his tongue, but the dots just weren't joining...

Before the rotund skeleton had even rolled off the couch to grab his phone, the paramedics were pounding at the door. Who had called them? Had you called them before you did whatever you did to cause it? Once you had been stable and awake for a couple of days, they started allowing more visitors. Sans... may have told a little white lie to the staff at the hospital, claiming to be your fiance. It was the only way they would let him and Paps stay with you! You didn't have any family - at least none that you had ever mentioned - and they couldn't rightly leave you here all alone!

He was the one that stayed with you most of the time. Partly because he was unemployed, but mostly because of the guilt. If he had been sober, he could have stopped you, or if you couldn't be stopped, then he could have helped you all the sooner. If Papyrus hadn't come home when he had... would you even... It was a hell of a wake up call. He had already been drinking less, since you never usually allowed alcohol in your house (a rule you only put in place when he started hanging out on the regular), but knowing that you could have died, and Papyrus would have been the one to find you, lifeless in a puddle of your own blood, while he was passed out and useless on the couch in the next room... 

He couldn't stand it. He needed to get back in control. When he asked the staff at the hospital, they had given him a literal armful of pamphlets to read through and booked him appointments with their rehab specialists and therapists and dietitians, and... he felt very supported. The thought of being judged had always stayed his drunken hand before, but the reactions he'd gotten so far had only been positive.

He felt like he could do this. He felt like he had to.

Not for his own sake - his self loathing was as strong as ever - but for you and Papyrus. For people who cared about him, and whom he cared about. If he couldn't be strong and stand up on his own feet for you two, then who or what would ever make him?

Not that you needed any support in the 'standing up for yourself' department. You wouldn't be in a screaming match with a police officer if you did.   

" _I did NOT try to kill myself!!_ "

"I'm sorry, but I just don't understand why a human magician known exclusively for passive magic would suddenly decide to use active magic like that and expect to live." the officer contended, clearly trying very hard to stay calm and failing.

The golden question - the one everyone had been asking themselves and each other, but not you. Not yet. You seemed almost embarrassed to answer, face flushing darkly.

"I don't owe you any explanation." you all but growled at her.

"But you sure as hell owe us one!" your boss interrupted, stood on the other side of your bed to Sans "What were you doing?! What were you thinking?!"

You wouldn't look at her, but since you were surrounded on all sides by two skeletons, your boss and the officer, you didn't have anywhere else to look but at your own lap, fingers clutching the hospital bed sheets in frustration. You mumbled something through gritted teeth.

"What was that?" Margaret demanded "Speak up!"

You pulled a face like the words were physically painful, jaw still clenched.

" _I was asked to._ " you admitted.

Dead silence. No wonder you were embarrassed. On the long list of reasons why someone may injure themselves so seriously, 'because I was asked to' had to be one of the most stupid. The officer - Undyne, because of course it was - just gaped at you, pen loosely in her hand, while Margaret stared at you, dumbfounded.

"By who?!" she nearly screamed.

In response, you picked up the card that had been left with a little bouquet of blue flowers, and handed it to her. Margaret seemed to understand immediately, making a gesture with her hand like she was estimating somethings height from the floor. You nodded, and she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.

"But why?" she almost whispered, earlier harsh tone completely gone.

"That's-" you began.

"Sorry to interrupt." Undyne said "Who exactly was it that nearly made you kill yourself?"

You just pursed your lips and looked away from her, stubborn as ever. Margaret seemed much more willing to co-operate, showing the officer the card.

"Kei." she told her "The heir. She's... she's our 'Asriel'. So to speak."

"So to speak?" Undyne asked as she took a picture of the note on her phone.

"Magician royalty is... well, we call them royals, but there's no regency." you explained "The most powerful magician is the queen. The next most powerful is the heir. Most of the time."

The officer opened her mouth to question further, but Margaret already knew what she was going to say.

"Kei is currently the strongest magician alive." she explained "But she's not the queen yet because she's..."

"So young..." you finished, remembering the gap in her teeth and the school books in her bag.

" _So young_." Margaret repeated, almost grimacing.

"And you know her?" Papyrus asked, uncharacteristically quiet.

"We've met a couple of times." you shrugged.

"Did she threaten you in some way?" Undyne asked, voice and face very serious indeed.

"No." you swore, shaking your head "No threats."

"Then why-"

"If Asriel asked you to do something, wouldn't you?" you interrupted.

Undyne didn't seem to have a good answer for that, mouth flapping open a few times, before her sharp jaws snapped closed unhappily. She was glaring, but Sans could tell it wasn't directed at anyone in particular. She was probably imagining some kid going around trying to convince innocent magicians to nearly kill themselves for her amusement. That's even worse than... than... what was that kids name?

"What exactly did she ask you to do?" Undyne went on, taking more notes on her pad.

"She wanted to see if it was possible to cut a thread."

Margaret gasped theatrically, clearly having understood what that meant better than any monster present.

"What would that do?" Papyrus asked, scratching self-consciously above where his soul lay "Would it... k-kill someone?"

"No!" Margaret immediately soothed, rubbing his arm like his was an upset child "No no no, nobody died."

"It would sever the relationship." you explained grimly "Completely. They'd walk past each other in the street and not even know each other any more." 

"It's just so tragic..." your boss agreed "A relationship that can never be fixed."

A selfish thought immediately flashed through San's mind, of a relationship he would very much like to sever, but considering you had nearly died once already, he pushed the idea down. He flinched a little when he felt Papyrus' long fingers fiddling with the fabric of his blue sleeve, his eyes far away. Was he thinking about the same things Sans was, or was he grieving the idea of a relationship that couldn't be fixed? Sans hadn't been the best brother this go round, but nothing so bad it couldn't be fixed... he hoped. Papyrus didn't flinch at all when Sans laid his own hand over his, instead giving him a tender smile.

"Alright," Undyne grumbled "Why did she ask you to do this?"

"To see if it was possible." you repeat.

The officer raised an eyebrow, but you just shrugged. You couldn't say anything stupider than 'I was asked to', so it seemed like you were just going for broke.

After a while, Undyne ran out of questions, the answers just going around in circles. The nurses shooed everyone out at the same time, and Sans was about to talk to his brother when he noticed him staring at Undyne. He was fiddling with his hands nervously, his eyes full of concentration as he took in her every feature. The officer took her time finish up her notes and putting her equipment away before she addressed him.

"Something to say to me?" she challenged.

To his credit, Papyrus didn't even flinch, instead cocking his head slightly to the side.

"Forgive me, but..." he started, both very unsure and absolutely certain at the same time "I feel like I know you. Have we met before?"

Undyne looked surprised, turning to face him fully.

"I thought that exact same thing!" she declared "What school did you go to?!"

Sans just sighed as the two of them swapped information, only getting annoyed and disappointed when it didn't match. That awful deja vu, that stubborn part of the soul that refuses to let go... Sans had it in spades, but it existed in all monsters at least a little. Even though the fine details were lost to the reset, strong relationships, or at least the shadows of them, would remain. How many times had these two had this exact conversation?

"Maybe you two were friends in another life." Margaret added helpfully.

"Maybe..."

"Gimme your number, punk!" Undyne demanded "If we can't remember how we know each other, we'll just have to get to know each other again! I've been needing a wingman to help me pick up girls anyway!"

Okay, he couldn't help but smile at that, almost able to see the bright stars his little brothers eyelights morphed into at her command. Undyne always had a way of bringing Papyrus out of his shell.

* * *

 

"Why are you like this?"

"i don't know what you mean."

"You're like a fucking cat, but less cute."

"fuck you, i'm plenty cute."

"Get off my feet!"

Sans side-eyed you, the smirk on his face telling you that he was completely doing this on purpose.

Once you were awake and stable, there was little point staying in the hospital, and the boys had promised to make sure you rested in order for your body and magic levels to recover. Despite squatting in your place almost 24/7, neither of them had ventured into your bedroom much, perhaps considering it too private, but boy had that gone out of the window in the last few days. Hence why Sans was currently sprawled across your lower legs, lain on his belly as he played on his phone. Crammed in what little space there was between your bed and the wall was Papyrus' blow up mattress, his pyjamas folded neatly on top, while the other side of your bed was still crumpled from where Sans had slept on it.

You hadn't had a moment to yourself since you got home. If you were in the bathroom longer than five minutes, whichever skel was the closest would be knocking on the door to check on you.

It was like you had fucking toddlers.

"meow."

"Oh my god!"

Sans burst out laughing, but he didn't move, grabbing your feet and holding them down as you kicked from under the duvet.

"You're just taking advantage of me being sick!" you cried, trying not to burst out laughing yourself "You just wait until I'm better, I'm gonna kick your smug ass!"

"gotta catch me first." Sans smirked "man, this is just like Paris."

You stopped kicking, not able to understand his statement.

"Paris?" you asked.

"yeah." he confirmed, far off look in his eye, like recalling a fond memory "remember, you got food poisoning from those muscles and threw up at the eiffel tower? man, papyrus' face! i wish i had taken a picture!"

Um... what?

"Sans, you and I have never been to Paris." you told him certainly.

"sure we did. it was only in april."

"I met you in July."

" _next_ april." Sans finished like it was obvious, and you were being stupid for not remembering.

His eyelights disappeared when it dawned on him exactly what he was saying. He seemed to shrink into himself after that, curling around your legs a little.

"Sans, you said were stopping drinking." you reminded him, grabbing the only rational explanation you had.   

He didn't answer right away, eyes still dark. After a worrying amount of time, he shuffled up from your legs, crawled over the bed so he was next to you, and all but collapsed onto the mattress, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head on your lap, watching the silly movie you had picked on Netflix. Normally you'd tell him off, but... he was genuinely upset. Was is something you said? His whole mood had turned like a light switch...

You did the only thing you could, and let it go, leaning back on your pillows and watching the movie with him, absently scratching and stroking at his skull. There was silence for a long time.

"i'm not going to purr." Sans said sleepily.

"I never know with you."

"i didn't say stop."

* * *

 

He knew her. He knew her. How did he know her?

Papyrus wasn't good at very much, but he knew who he knew. He didn't know enough people not to know who he knew, you know?

But he knew Undyne. He somehow knew she enjoyed wrestling, and anime, and would love receiving bones as a present when he came to her house. She would hate soda, but love giant swords.

How did he know this? How did he know her?

It wasn't the first time he had felt like this - sometimes, he just knew things, just felt them in his bones! (nyeh heh heh...) - but this time it was far stronger than before. It was nothing physical, and it certainly didn't seem to be romantic: Undyne was obviously gay, and while Papyrus had yet to put a label on what he was, it wasn't necessarily straight. But it was _strong_.

He couldn't help but ponder this as he worked, working twice as hard while you were off. He really hadn't realised everything you did around here until he had to do it, on top of his own work. No wonder Margaret had hired him! His poor aching feet... It didn't really help that he wasn't sleeping well at the moment. After finding you in that state, blood coming out of every orifice, he was understandably traumatised. If he wasn't already ~~literally~~ _practically_   living with you, he would have grabbed the last of his things from his father house (which at this point consisted of a pair of shoes that didn't fit him and an umbrella with a hole in it), and moved himself in. As much as he wanted to respect your privacy, he had moved his mattress into your room just to make sure you were still breathing at night.

It would pass, he knew, and he wouldn't feel so damn scared every time he left you alone for more than five minutes, but for now it helped him feel better, even if the lack of proper sleep was getting to him. He swore he used to have more energy, once upon a time. Why was he always so tired this go round?

('This go round?' What the hell did that mean? Stupid brain.)

Head still in the clouds, Papyrus bumped into someone, knees making contact with a slight body and nearly dropping the box of books he was holding.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry!" he declared, looking all around for what he had assumed from the size was a child "Are you alright?"

"It's fine." she told him "I was kind of zoning out, sorry."

"Me too..." Papyrus chuckled, glad she wasn't going to scream and run to her parents because a scary skeleton was talking to her (not that had happened once or twice in teh past...) "I guess we both need to pay more attention."

The girl laughed as well, showing off the gap between her teeth, and put the book she had been reading through ('The History of Time'? Okay...) back on the shelf.

"Hey, is Sam in today?" she asked.

"Oh, Sam's not very well at the moment." Papyrus explained, finding it difficult to gauge the child's age "They won't be back until next month."

"Aw, shit."

"Language!"

The girls unnatural blue eyes lit up, and Papyrus knew he should have kept his mouth shut before she even opened hers.

"Well shit, I'm sorry." she said, almost gleefully "I guess I just fuck up all the time. Damn."

Papyrus just deadpanned at her, making her grin unapologetically.

"You guys live together, right?" she pried "Are you dating?"

"That's really none of your business." he grumbled, not sure what to make of this kid anymore "Is your mother here with you?"

"Do I really look that young? I thought I at least passed for 12 or 13."

Papyrus felt a palpable sense of relief when Margaret appeared from behind a bookshelf, absolutely not having been eavesdropping at all and hearing the awkward tone of his voice as he spoke to the child.

"Everything alright over here, sweetheart?" she enquired.

Then she got a good look at the girl, entire body going stiff. The kid didn't seem to mind, if she even noticed, turning to the manager.

"Papyrus says that Sam is off for a while. Is that true?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am..." Margaret all but whispered.

"Damn, looks like my debt is wracking up. Shit."

The girl scratched her head, then stuffed her hands in her pockets with a shrug.

"Do me a favour, tell Sam I was here." she said to the two adults "And tell them to think seriously before they ask for what I owe. I'm out."

With nothing more than a sigh, the girl turned on her heel and walked into the bookshelf, promptly disappearing. Papyrus had seen his brother do something similar so many times it didn't phase him, but Margaret was understandably shocked, checking the other side of the bookcase to see if the child was there.

Papyrus wasn't a fool. He had a good idea who that was after that last exchange, but one nagging question lodged in his mind.

How did she know his name?


	9. Highs and Lows

Being made entirely of magic and dust, Sans was able to avoid a lot of the physical side-effects of alcohol withdrawal that human alcoholics so enjoy - no tremors, elevated heart rate and high blood pressure for him. The psychological effects, however? Irritable, anxious, restless and confused? Check, check and double check. He was getting on everyone's last nerve, stomping around the little flat like the floor had insulted him, slamming cupboard doors, biting peoples heads off regardless of what they said. You had to keep reminding yourself it was only a temporary state: once the alcohol was fully out of his system and he'd had he therapy he needed, he'd even back out again.

In the meantime, though, he was pissing you off royally.

"You're buying me a new couch."

"the fuck would I do that?"

"Because you've completely destroyed that one!"

You gestured angrily to the sofa he was sat on, the fabric of which had been shredded, the foam picked away piece by piece until it left massive craters.

"it's more comfortable this way."

"Sans!"

"fuck this!" he suddenly yelled, jumping up, throwing his arms in the air "i don't have to put up with this! i don't even live here! it's not my sofa, you replace it!"

The diminutive skeleton stormed out, slamming the door theatrically behind him. You counted to three. The door creaked back open.

"... forgot my shoes..." he mumbled.

"I noticed." you answered "Get something for dinner once you've cooled your head."

"oh for fuck sake!"

The door slammed again. You just sighed, going to the kitchen to grab a bin bag for the shredded cushion.

 

* * *

 

It was the worst hangover of his life. A week and a half with no alcohol at all. He had read all the literature, he knew this was all to be expected - the constant headache, the insomnia, being an absolute bitch to anyone and everyone - but knowing the reason behind it didn't make it any easier to deal with. He was so tired, but so fidgety, hands twitching almost constantly. He almost yelled at a pigeon for being too loud as he stomped along the street, walking in any random direction.

He must really love you guys to be putting himself through this. You must both really love him to put up with him while he did.

Fuck it was hot. He was so thirsty.

Sans stopped when he realised where his feet had bought him, looking up at the familiar red sign.

Grillby's.

...

...

...

One wouldn't hurt, right?

Just to take the shakes off?

No-one had to know.

Before he had even finished reasoning it out in his head, Sans had opened the door and sauntered in, sitting in his usual seat. Someone else had clearly been sitting in it, because his ass groove was a little off.

"hey grillbz." he greeted the bartender as he approached "can i get the usual?"

"No." was the simple answer.

Stunned, Sans just stared at him. Grillby stared right back, polishing a glass.

"what do you mean 'no'?" he asked.

"You're getting sober, aren't you?" the flamesman somehow knew.

How did...? Was it Papyrus? You were still weak and barely left the house, but Papyrus could swing by easily on the way to work... 

"one won't hurt." Sans tried to assure him "i'm still on the wagon."

"One will hurt." was the immediate answer, tone surprisingly harsh "I'm not serving you."

"hey now, i'm a paying customer!"

"And you can order any food or non-alcoholic drink you like." Grillby finished, before his tone softened "I can't watch you drink yourself to death anymore, Sans. I can't be responsible for that."

Sans... may or may not have thrown a massive, very unsightly tantrum at Grillby's refusal to serve him, which may or may not have got him kicked out of the bar. It did nothing to alleviate his mood, and he shoved his hands in his pockets with extra harshness as he thudded along the pavement, swearing under his breath.

His next stop was the supermarket. There was more than one place to get a drink, who even needed Grillby? His feet once again led him to the right aisle before his head was even sure where he was, finding those glorious dark spirits right in the place he left them. What to get? Something small, something he could hide easily. But he didn't want to waste money on those little bottles... and then there was the taste! Sure, he could drink nail varnish remover at this point and it would amount to the same, but if this was going to be his last drink, he should get something nice, right?

As he was pondering this important decision, a smell came to his attention - a smell he never would have noticed last week, but was now as clear as the lights in his eyes.

A bouquet of fresh urine, finely aged body odour and an acidic undertone of vomit.

It was enough to make his non-existent stomach lurch. He couldn't help but look around at the source - an unshaven human man, skin waxy and sallow, stomach bloated even as his thin limbs struggled to support him. His clothes were a mess, stained down the front with... _something_... Sans didn't want to think about it too hard. His fellow shoppers eyes were glassy, hair unbrushed and greasy, as he pondered the very same thing Sans was.

 _oh stars,_ he thought, _do i look that bad?_

The human alcoholic swayed on his feet, finally picking what he wanted to drink, and nearly dropped it as he wandered over to the till, the sour stench lingering long after he was gone.

You had sprayed him down with febreeze more than once. Had he... smelled like that?

Sans suddenly wasn't thirsty. He turned back the way he had come and marched out without looking back.

* * *

 

The couch was ruined - no amount of clever patching could save it. Mr-fucking-trust-fund was going to pay for this, one way or another. You glared at the sofa, wandering how you could make do in the meantime, when there was a sharp knock on the door. You were understandably confused, since the boys were well past the point where they knocked, and you weren't expecting anyone else. You were further surprised to see Undyne stood there in her uniform, looking stern. Before you could say anything, she raised her arm, revealing the familiar figure of Kei: the monster had the girl by the hood of her coat, making it look like she was a kitten being held by it's scruff by it's grumpy mother.

"S'up." Kei greeted, shooting you the finger guns.

"Uh..."

"Is this the one?" Undyne asked.

"The one?" you repeated.

"The one that made you nearly kill yourself?" she clarified.

"Oh. Um... technically?"

Undyne's eye twitched. Kei just smirked lazily.

"Do you want to press charges?" the officer asked.

"That's not necessary." you assured, holding up your hands "Please put her down."

Undyne bared her teeth, making a 'tch' noise, but ultimately does so, dropping the teenager inelegantly. Before she can right herself, Undyne grabbed her head and forced it down, making her bow to you. You immediately felt incredibly uncomfortable.

"Apologise, punk!" the monster ordered "You caused a lot of trouble with the shit you pulled!"

"Oh my god, Undyne, stop!" you cried.

"I'm sorry."

You stopped in your tracks, hardly believing what you had just heard. The heir, the most powerful magician in the world, who could easily order you to your death, had just apologised to you. More than that, she had said it with such sincerity, even as she as looking at the floor, that you didn't doubt she meant it.

"I didn't know it would affect you this badly." she went on "I'm here to pay my debt."

Even Undyne was shocked. Whatever picture she had in her head of the heir, this clearly wasn't it. She finally let the kid up, and Kei halfheartedly glared at her as she smoothed the hair back over the burnt side of her face.

"Officer, I appreciate the effort that you've gone to on my behalf." you said to Undyne "But like I said, I'm not pressing charges. Can we let this rest now?"

She looked conflicted, glancing between the two of you. She clearly didn't feel like justice had been done, but Kei hadn't done anything that could get her arrested, and she couldn't make you press charges. She ground her teeth together, adjusting her hat with a huff.

"If that's what you want, fine." she grumbled "I'll be on my way. You let Papyrus know I haven't forgotten about Saturday!"

Without another word, Undyne turned around and stomped down the hall. You watched her until she disappeared from sight, at which point Kei turned to you.

"Is that Papyrus' girlfriend?" she asked.

You ignored her question, grabbed her coat and hauled her into the flat.

"How did Undyne find you?" you asked "I thought you could disappear into the shadows?"

"I can." she confirmed "She's _really_ determined. Hunted me down for the better part of a week."

A week? Damn, now you felt bad for dismissing her so quickly. You'd have to bake her a cake or something for all the effort she put in.

In the meantime, you just sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. You were still recovering, and were completely exhausted from what little activity you had performed today.

"Tell me one thing." you requested "Did it at least work?"

"Kinda?" Kei confirmed, flopping down on the sofa as if it wasn't full of holes "I mean... I know my biological father exists, and I know I hate him, but if you asked me why or what he looks like, I couldn't tell you."

Not wanting to sit anywhere on your ruined couch, you perched on the coffee table, holding your hand out to her like you were requesting a dogs paw. She obligingly put her hand in yours, and you looked over your glasses to see her strings. Sure enough, 'biological father' was severed, but the end was frayed like twine cut with blunt scissors. Perhaps her lingering memories of the man were contained in those stray tufts of thread? You hoped she wasn't interested in having them cut down too, or a month off work wasn't going to be enough for you to recover.

"It's frayed." you admit to her, releasing her hand "But it's cut."

"If you had the right pair of scissors, could you cut a thread cleanly?"

You level her what you could only assume was a positively filthy look, as she held up her hands.

"Theoretically." she assured.

" _Theoretically_ ," you stressed "Yes, I could. But I've never come across a pair that I felt could do it."

"Me neither." Kei pondered "Don't you think that's odd?"

"No." you admitted "I haven't exactly gone looking."

She didn't say anything, but the look on her face told you that she had. She suddenly got serious, brows lowering and mouth a thin straight line.

"Have you thought about your payment?" she asked.

Ah, that was her business face. You recognised it from that time at the Recallers meeting.

"As a matter of fact, I have." you confessed.

You had to resist the urge to close the curtains, plug up the vents and flip the breakers off. You were still used to hiding, to not even discussing magic unless it was in whispered codes and dark corners, hidden from the world. From the way Kei's hands twitched, you could tell she felt the same. You leaned back, bracing yourself on your hands against the wood of the table. She may be more powerful, but you were still the adult, and you had to at least act like you knew what you were doing.

"I want to be able to remember the resets." you tell her plainly.

There were many reasons for this wish, but it was what Sans had said about Paris that stuck with you. He might be a drunk, but he's not crazy, or stupid - this wasn't the first time you had known the skeletons, even if you couldn't remember it. How many more resets had their been? How many would there be? You couldn't stand being in the dark anymore.

"I can't reconnect neurons and glial bridges that were never built." Kei explains apologetically with a soft shake of her head "It's not a simple case of putting them back."

"Simple English, please." 

She thinks a moment, fiddling with her sleeves.

"I can't give you back the memories you made in previous resets." she tries again "You haven't forgotten it - thanks to the reset, it never even happened. Anything I could put in your head would only be... false memories... and that raises it's own set of implications..."

"Alright." you concede "But what about going forward? Can you stop me from losing my memories the next time there's a reset?"

Again, Kei took a moment to think.

"If I... encase your mind in a kind of shield... the maths is complicated, but basically it would rely on particles of highly charged..."

She raised her hands as if about to demonstrate, but quickly dropped them again, perhaps realising her highly scientific explanation would be wasted on her current audience.

"I can do it." she simplified.

You leaned forward again, resting your elbows on your knees.

"Side effects?"

"I don't know. I've never done it before. Does Alzheimer's run in your family?"

"No-one's ever lived long enough to find out."

"Right... guess that is kind of a moot point."

Kei shrugged off her coat to free her hands of obstructing fabric, and for the first time you got a look at her arms - covered in scars, mostly from the burns that covered her entire body, but also the tell-tale straight lines that crisscrossed the outside of her forearms. You know defensive wounds when you see them. You have a few of your own.

The heir places her hands on the side of your head, and you're once again reminded of how small they are. Her face is a picture of concentration. You readied yourself for a repeat of the blood vomiting from before, when the concentration on her face breaks, followed by honest surprise.

"Huh..."

"Huh?" you echod.

"You already have a casting on you." she admitted "It's... a confounding?"

"What would that do?" you asked - it had been a long time since you had been at school, magic that wasn't your own had stopped being your business ages ago.

"It makes you impossible to find, unless you want to be found." Kei explained, focus back on her face as she examined your mind "But that's not the weird part. It seems to be... my magic?" 

She sounded more confused than you were. No-one could cast so many spells and hexes that they would forget one.

"Could it be... from a previous reset?" you suggested.

Kei's face lit up like you had given her the last piece of the puzzle.

"It could." she thought "Confounding is a type of Other chaos magic which relies on... anyway, it's perfectly plausible that the resets had no effect on it."

You couldn't help the smile that crept over your face. She so badly wanted to tell you how it worked. Maybe she wanted to be a teacher? 

"Will the confounding effect what we're trying to do now?" you asked.

"No." she was certain "Alright, brace yourself."

You did so, grabbing the edge of the table. You felt the hands on the side of your head start to warm up, before everything went black.

You weren't sure how long you were out, but you were still upright when you came to, hands still gripping the table. Kei steadied your shoulders, looking seriously into your eyes.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

You took a moment to access.

"I don't feel any different." you realised.

"Good." Kei breathed a sigh of relief "The brain is so fragile. If you didn't feel anything, it means I didn't poke around anywhere I shouldn't."

"Did it even work?" you wondered.

"I think so. Guess we'll find out next time there's a reset."

Kei sat back down, putting her coat on again. It was fairly warm in the flat, and just seeing her all covered up made you uncomfortable.

The confounding came back to you then. Who was previous reset you hiding from? What favour had you pulled, or what had you been owed, in order to acquire a spell like that?

"We should have a code word." you pondered aloud.

"A code word?"

"Next time there's a reset." you elaborated "What happens twice happens thrice. You and I have met in past resets, we might meet in future ones."

"Charlotte." Kei announced before you could explain your thinking further "That's our code word."

That was quick. You kept your mouth shut on the matter. Kei looked around briefly, sliding her fidgety hands between her thighs.

"So..." she started "This is a one bed place. Where does Papyrus sleep?"

The suddenness of that question threw you for a loop. You hadn't even mentioned Papyrus. Wait, how did she even know who that was?

When you didn't answer, she glanced at you, but very quickly glanced away, blushing slightly.

"Was that his girlfriend before?" she asked.

You vaguely recalled she asked that before.

"How do you know Papyrus?" you asked.

"I've been following some leads." she explained with a nonchalant shrug "I came across him in my studies. Sat next to him once or twice on the train. I don't think he noticed me..."

"That's not creepy."

"It was a coincidence." she defended, blushing further "Mostly."

"Why are you so interested in him?" you asked.

She blushed all the way to her ears.

"I... my favourite animals are dogs..." she explained, and for a second you weren't sure where this was going "My favourites are the kind that are big and stupid and friendly, like... the bigger and stupider they are, the better... like those really big dogs that think they're still lapdogs. If I could have my own dog, they'd be just... _so_ big and stupid, y'know? Papyrus... is kinda like that?"

"He's not stupid." you immediately defended.

"I know, but he has that kind of air..."

"You have a crush on him."

Her blush reaches maximum.

"Maybe..." she says quietly "Was... was that his girlfriend before?"

Fucking teenagers.

"No." you admitted, throwing her a bone "Papyrus is single."

"Oh."

She immediately perked up. You would have laughed if you weren't scared of offending her.

"What type of girl does he like? Does he have a type? Or does he swing the other way? Does he swing at all? Do you think he'd like me? Does he like younger girls?"

You had to cover your mouth with your hand as the questions continued. Not only was the most unattractive smirk stealing across your face, you were struggling to breathe with how badly you wanted to burst out laughing. No-one was immune to catching feelings, of course, but you just couldn't reconcile the image in your head of the all powerful heir with this fidgety girl who was worried about whether or not a boy liked her.

You were saved from further cringe when the front door opened, the man of the hour strolling through with a bag of shopping in his hands to make dinner. Kei's demeanour changed immediately, pretending to be relaxed (a rouse you saw right through now you knew the truth), and Papyrus narrowed his eyes in uncharacteristic suspicion.

"Hi...?" he greeted.

"Hey Paps, welcome home." you greeted, swivelling around on the table where you still sat "This is Kei, she's a ... distant cousin of mine. Very distant."

"Oh."

Papyrus seemed to accept this hasty lie, kicking off his shoes and shutting the door behind him.

"Your cousin came to the shop looking for you the other day." he told you "I didn't know you had any family."

"Like I said." you assured "Very distant."

"You told me Sam was sick, so I dropped by to say hi." Kei explained "Neither of us has much family, so I had to come check in."

"Are you going to stay for dinner?"

"If that's alright with you, handsome."

Your hand slapped back over your mouth as you snorted, Papyrus looking back at Kei so quickly you heard his bones click. You had to get up and take the bag from Papyrus, fearful that your shaking would cause the table to break.

"What?" Papyrus asked.

"What?" Kei echoed, as if she hadn't just said that.

"What's for dinner, Paps?" you wheezed.

"Oh, um, paella." he explained, following you to the kitchen.

Kei's eyes followed him as he stood on the far side of you at the kitchen counter, taking the ingredients as you took them from the bag.

"D-do you like prawns, Kei?" he asked, trying to stay friendly.

"Actually, I'm allergic to shellfish." she admitted "Wouldn't mind taking a taste of you, though."

You couldn't hold it anymore - you burst out laughing, clutching the kitchen counter for support while Papyrus' jaw hit the floor.

"I feel so uncomfortable..." he almost whimpered "Why is this child flirting with me?"

"I'm 17." Kei pouted.

"My question stands."

"Okay, okay..." you chuckled, pulling yourself together, turning to Kei "You, stop it. Keep your hormones in check."

She pouted harder, but Papyrus seemed to relax, knowing you wouldn't let him be harassed. Despite how uncomfortable he may feel, it was still bloody funny.

* * *

 

Before dinner was finished, Sans trudged meekly through the door, thankfully completely sober. He also gave Kei the side-eye, but paid her no more mind as he entered the kitchen area, standing before you with his hands in his pockets.

"listen, i... i'm sorry about what the shit i said earlier." he said "i didn't mean any of it."

"I know." you assured him "This wasn't going to be easy for any of us, but it is the right thing to do."

Sans gave you a weak smile, fishing something out of his pocket and passing it to you: it was a delivery note, detailing when you could expect your new sofa.

"i really don't know what i did to deserve you..." he mumbled.

"Me neither." you confessed "I just ran in to you guys one day and now I can't get rid of you. Move out already, stop haunting my house and eating my bread."

"We love you too, Sam!" Papyrus injected, hugging you from behind.

Just like that, you found yourself the filling in a skeleton sandwich, with Sans hugging you from the front. All joking aside, you had no idea how these two got so attached to you.

"I'm serious." you said, flapping your hands uselessly as they were they only parts of your body you could move "This place isn't big enough for all of us."

"don't worry, the new sofa has a pull out bed." Sans told you with a chuckle.

"Not the point!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, folks! Or has it been a week? Losing track of time atm...
> 
> I've got a little time off, and work is finally starting to quiet down again, so uploads should increase once again! Hopefully!
> 
> Don't forget to leave a comment - writers thrive on that shit!


	10. Old New Faces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Work is getting quieter', I said.
> 
> 'I should be able to update more often', I said...
> 
> OVER A MONTH LATER...

It was a rather nice day. Not too cold, just enough wind to take the edge off, and no sign of rain. A perfect opportunity to have lunch outside for once. Since it was Sunday and the bookshop was closed, you and Papyrus had dragged Sans out to the park, picnic in hand, to enjoy a rare day off together. He only grumbled for the first five minutes or so before falling into an angry silence, his mood eventually lightening the longer he spent outside. His mood swings were playing havoc on him, and a little fresh air was just what the doctor ordered.

You set up your blanket beside a large oak tree, chatting casually and watching people go past as you ate. You had a brief moment of introspection when you questioned how natural it all felt, as if you had known the boys for years instead of months, but it soon passed when Papyrus got freaked out by a wasp, swatting at it frantically as his brother laughed.

"hey look, it's your girlfriend." he continued to tease, pointing across the park.

Curious, you looked around - sure enough, there was Kei, although it didn't seem like she had noticed you. She had a fishing rod and bucket in her hands, and was walking beside a much older man with a happy smile. You looked over your glasses briefly, just able to pick out the thread between them when you concentrated. 'Adoptive father'. A good relationship too. You were happy for her, even if her father did look like a shaved polar bear. A particularly ugly one at that. The kind of man any sensible person would probably cross the street to avoid, lest he decide to shank them in the face for no reason. Somehow, having the diminutive Kei trotting along beside him made him seem like less of a threat, like the polar bear had adopted a baby penguin rather than eating it.

... You could  _never_ tell her you had just thought that.

"I wish you wouldn't joke about that." Papyrus squirmed, cringing slightly "Do you have any idea how uncomfortable it makes me feel?"

"why's that?" his brother asked honestly, curious and ever so slightly concerned.

"'Why'?" he gasped, throwing his hands up "She's in stripes for goodness sake! How would you feel to have some kid hitting on you every time you were in the same room? It's... _squicky_..."

"i understand entirely." Sans assured, completely serious.

You were about to agree with him as well when a thought occurred to you - you had never once seen that kid in stripes. You were familiar enough with monster culture by now to know what being 'in stripes' meant, but in a very literal sense she clearly wasn't.

"When did you see her wear stripes?" you asked absently.

"She wears them all the time!" he objected "On her arms!"

He ran his phalanges along the outer side of his forearm in demonstration, and you felt your blood run cold when you realised what he actually meant.

"Papyrus, those aren't stripes." you told him "Those are scars."

His face went blank as he realised the implications of that.

"... That's what scars look like?" he asked, voice very small.

"You didn't know?"

"dude..."

"I honestly didn't!" he swore "I don't have any scars... and I don't know anyone with flesh well enough to ask to see theirs, a-and I thought h-humans c-could change their skin the s-same way they d-do their hair, a-and..."

Papyrus started fiddling with his fingers, even more uncomfortable than he had been before. Sans' face was taking quite the journey while his mood decided which way to swing. Had he really never seen scars before? You knew he had no close friends before you, and having no flesh himself... but seriously, not a single one? You rolled up your sleeves, showing off the few scars that had remained on your arms after the reset.

"Take a look." you bid him "You see where the skin is lighter? It's kind of a different texture too."

Papyrus looked almost flabbergasted, as if the idea of showing them off was too personal for him to compute, but he took the opportunity all the same, shuffling closer and inspecting your arms carefully.

"I see..."

He held up a hand to run his long fingers along the slightly raised skin, remembering himself at the last minute and looking to you for consent to do so. You weren't sure why he was being so weird about it - not long ago he had seen you vomiting your own blood all over the bathroom, after all... on second thought, maybe that was why? - but you allowed it all the same.

"Huh..."

You could metaphorically see the gears turning in his eyes, grinding out question after question.

"Are they always straight lines like this?" he asked.

"They take on whatever shape the wound was." you explained simply. 

"And humans really can't change their skin? Because hair dye-"

"I understand where you're coming from." you interrupted before he could turn himself around too much "There are treatments, but they're expensive and not very effective. Some people get tattoos over their scars, if they really bother them."

"Kei's are a different colour." he noted with interest "Is it because you have different skin tones?"

"It's because mine are old." you answered, not able to hide the darkness that crept into your voice "They healed a long time ago."

Papyrus opened his mouth, but thankfully his brain was faster, and the question died on his tongue. His filter may be a little narrow, but it was still there. He turned his attention back to your arm, examining the lines carved onto your flesh. You glanced at Sans, who was also staring, but more in confused anger than wonder. You looked back at Papyrus as both his hands closed around yours.

"M... May I ask?" he said carefully "You... have an awful lot of scars..."

Not even half what you used to.

You were uncomfortable talking about it, but not for the reason the monsters thought. A lifetime of hiding, a lifetime of secrets, was hard to erase with a few months of peace.

"Paps..." you started "Do you know why all the monsters in the world live in one country?"

"Because it isn't safe for us anywhere else." he knew.

"Well, you aren't the only one's it isn't safe for." you went on "To some humans... to quite a lot of humans... humans having magic is an abomination. They see us as monsters, or demons, or worse. If you get caught using magic..."

Something dark and cold passed through you. Maybe it was trauma, maybe it was the weight of lifetimes past, the blood and tears of all those who lost their lives before you, but whatever it was, it bled through your words and weighed down the air as you unknowingly recited the very same words your mother had said to you when you were old enough to understand the importance of them.

"Anyone caught using magic _will_ be killed." you said certainly "It doesn't matter how slight, how unimportant it may seem, all it takes is one pair of the wrong eyes. The burners will kill you, your family, anyone who lives with you, any friends of yours they can find, people you work with... no-one is safe. Not children, not the elderly. If you're even suspected of using magic, that's all they need to come for you."

"B-Burners?" Papyrus echoed in a very small voice.

"It's how they used to find 'witches' in the olden days." you explained "Purge them with fire and clean the air for the innocent. Whether or not you're actually burned when they find you depends on how sadistic they are. Some of the things they've done... you'd be happier to be burned alive."

"That..."

"that can't be legal." Sans knew.

"Of course not." you agreed "Not for centuries, now. Doesn't stop them. They've gotten clever, implanting agents in the police, the government, anywhere to cover their tracks. They operate under cover of darkness, abduct people to places where no-one knows them, so their remains will be labelled 'John' or 'Jane Doe' and slung in the back of a mortuary to be forgotten about."

"Why would they go to all this trouble?" Papyrus asked, barely above a whisper, hands wringing in his upset.

"They consider it their 'sacred duty', a holy rite handed down by their ancestors." you told him, running your fingers along one of the more prominent scars - an act that didn't go unnoticed "When someone is that far gone, they don't listen to logic. The idea that we're human, that we're harmless, that our magic is all but useless, doesn't even occur to them."

"you've been caught." Sans realised.

"A few close calls." you admitted "My father, and my older brother... they were caught. My father allowed himself to get caught so my mother could run away with us. My brother made the mistake of trusting the wrong person when he was a kid... no, it wasn't even the kid he told that was the issue - he asked his parents about it, who talked to their pastor, who talked to his whole congregation about what he thought was a metaphor, and the next thing you knew our house was on fire, and my brother..."

The let the sentence hang there. It was difficult to talk about your brother, even though - or maybe even because - the two of you had been close.

"One day, my mother just didn't come home." you finished "And I knew they got her. Our relationship was difficult, but she never would have left me. I was 13. I got relocated, and a few days later the building we had lived in had a massive gas leak. Killed everyone there."

Papyrus was speechless, covering his mouth with his hands. Sans looked furious, eyes distant and searching. You tried to let the breeze blow the darkness away from you, but it sat heavy and wet on your heart, like tar, weighing down your thoughts to times and places you'd rather forget. Unspeakably carefully, as if afraid he would break you, Papyrus wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. You could feel him shaking.

"I'm so glad you're alive." he told you "The south sounds so terrible..."

The south?

Something in your mind clicked, reminding you of exactly where you were, exactly what manner of creature was currently cradling you gently. Papyrus had never given any indication of remembering the resets, so the idea that the whole world had once been like that would most likely be completely horrific to him. You hugged him back with one arm, finding a surprising comfort in the solidity of his bones.

Things were different now, weren't they? You hadn't felt this way in a long time. You had forgotten exactly how bad it was.

"there's one thing i don't get." Sans admitted, bringing your attention to him "kei lives in the northland. why is she all scarred up?" 

"Sans." Papyrus admonished, clearly not wanting to talk about this any more.

"Because she survived a burning." you explained simply, feeling the bile in your stomach rise "The good ol' fashioned tied to a stake kind. As the most powerful magician around, it's her job to relocate people when they're in immediate danger."

"to put herself in danger instead." he rephrased.

"If you must."

"she's a fucking kid!"

"I never said it was fair."

Sans eyes shrunk to disgusted pinpricks, and you could see him shrink away in his revulsion. You understood. It was unforgivable of the magicians community to put such responsibility on the shoulders of someone who wasn't even allowed to get her ears pierced without her parents consent, but wasn't it just typical of people to do anything to avoid putting the responsibility on themselves? It was the responsibility of the strong to protect the weak, it was just a cruel trick of fate that the strongest around happened to be so young.

Sometimes you thought it would have been better for her if she hadn't survived the burning.

"I need to powder my nose." you excused, shifting out of Papyrus' grip and standing up.

"We'll be here." he assured, Sans still staring angrily at the pattern on the blanket.

You didn't actually need the bathroom - you just needed air. Had it always felt this bad? Had you just become numb to it? The truth of the world as it is... was. It wasn't new information, why did it suddenly feel so heavy?

You washed your face in the public bathroom, the cleanliness of it surprising you as your thoughts anchored themselves in the past. You shouldn't really be surprised - monsters as a species were pretty clean, and public facilities were well kept. You were sure there was some kind of saying about public facilities and the state of society, but the exact wording escaped you.

It wasn't until you were drying your face that you realised you were no longer alone in the bathroom. It was the suit that caught your attention first as the figure patiently waited for your attention - pressed, tailored, expensive. Familiar. The second was the mane of bright red hair, tied back into a stylish ponytail, with stubble to match. The man stood against the wall as you regarded him in the mirror, happy to wait. His stance was open, nonthreatening. Where did you know this guy from?

Face as dry as it could be, you finally turned to face him, locking eyes with his. He smiled at you like a lawyer - clean lines and promises above, danger beneath.

"Hello, Sam." he started.

You knew that voice. Like a bolt from the blue, it hit you where you knew him from.

"Felix." you greeted.

"You remember me!" he exclaimed, smile genuine just long enough to get your attention "I'm so glad! I was very pleased to see you at the Recallers meeting last month, but I haven't seen you since. I was hoping we could talk some more."

"I never told you my name." you knew, every single light and siren in your head going off "I didn't tell anyone there anything."

"Sam, Sam, Sam." he sighed, shaking his head "You and I have known each other for a very long time."

_Then why don't you know my real name?_ you thought.

"You and I both know that last rewind was just the latest in a long string of them." he went on "You and I have joined forces many times to uncover the truth and put the world right. Every time we get close, there's another rewind. And let me tell you, Sam, no-one ever got as close to the truth as you did."

"You're full of shit." you accused, wasting no time in walking to the exit.

The phone in your pocket went off, playing the generic jingle of the unknown number. You pulled it out by muscle memory alone, but it was Felix that had drawn your attention. He hadn't moved from the spot he was in, but was holding his expensive phone up to his ear, eyes locked on you. When he was absolutely sure you were putting two and two together, he ended the call. Your phone immediately stopped ringing.

"I memorised your phone number almost 10 rewinds ago." he said, that damn smile not having shifted from his face "It's not the first time I've had to convince you. But it could be the last."

He put his phone in his pocket, staying exactly where he was. Making sure there was nothing standing between you and the door, you gave him your full attention.

"How did you get my number?" you asked.

"You gave it to me." he confessed "It's lucky for me that your job pays so poorly and you couldn't afford a new phone. It's nice to have some constants in the world, isn't it?"

"You remember the resets that well?"

His eyebrow twitched at the word. His smile became knowing.

"You're already investigating." he knew "It must be second nature to you now." 

"Let's cut the bullshit." you growled, not wanting this guy to follow you back to Sans and Papyrus "The fuck do you want?"

"You." he said simply, sending a jolt of something... familiar... down your spine "Like I said, no-one ever got closer than you to putting the world back the way it should be."

That jolt of something was telling you to leave, to get back to the guys. In absence of facts and logic, you had nothing to trust but your instincts.

A toilet flushed in one of the stalls, startling you both. There had definitely not been anyone in the bathroom before. As the stall opened, you could have laughed when Kei walked out, passing a glance over the bathroom before going to wash her hands. Felix looked flabbergasted, as if wondering how this kid had sneaked past him, or why she wasn't freaking out at the currently co-ed status of the bathroom. You were actually happy to see her, the bad feeling in your spine growing stronger the longer you spent with Felix.

"Hey Sam." Kei greeted, putting on a higher voice that made her sound as young as she looked "Happy Fathers Day!"

Was it...? Good grief, it really was. Not having a father anymore, the whole thing just passed you by.

"Same to you." you told her "You and your dad going fishing today?"

"Yeah, he's been looking forward to it all week." she went on, drying her hands casually "He's determined to catch one as big as I am!"

She remained nonchalant, tossing the paper in the bin, but you could see what she was really doing - assessing the situation while putting herself between you and Felix. Did she consider him a threat, or had she somehow picked up on the weird, almost deja vu like sensation you were feeling? Felix was looking pissed, almost like the kid had just farted in his face.

"Excuse me," he all but hissed "We were having a conversation here, so if you don't mind-"

Stepping forward, he grabbed Kei's shoulder to shuffle her out faster, only to freeze in place. You weren't entirely sure why, baffled by the terrified expression on his face until you saw the shadows on the wall. Shadows of several people holding him still, with 'people' being a loose term.

"I think not." she said, using her real voice.

She pointed at the wall. Had you not seen the shadows before, you could have sworn she used blue magic to throw Felix against it. He looked shocked a moment before realisation dawned on his face.

"You're her, aren't you?" he asked "The Heir..."

He started to put that smile back on, but Kei cut him off by turning to you.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah." you admitted "What are you doing here."

"I have a... _general awareness_ of magicians in the city." she shrugged "It works a lot like atoms reacting to... it's not important. Your 'atom' started getting agitated, so I thought you might be in danger."

"I'm grateful, but don't put yourself in danger on my account."

"I'm not dangerous!" Felix swore with the passion of a businessman who saw a golden opportunity before him "I wasn't going to hurt Sam, I promise! I think you and I got off on the wrong foot, I'm-"

"I know who you are." Kei interrupted.

"Then you already know what it is I'm trying to do." he went on "If we work together - with your power and my resources - we can put the world back the way it supposed to be! We can fix-!"

"Don't wanna."

His face fell like she had slapped him. Even you were a little surprised - while she had suggested it might not be a good idea before, she hadn't come out and refused to go back.

"Y-You clearly don't understand." he tried again "The-"

"'The world was better the way it was before'." she guessed, mimicking his voice so perfectly it was downright scary "For your 1% ass maybe."

"What do you mean?" you asked.

"I've been doing the maths." she told you "Sure, the economy isn't as 'good' as it was before, but poverty is less, rates of homelessness and mental health problems are lower, and pollution is way down. The only people who seem to be worse off for the reset are the mega rich, who now only have one and a half billion in the bank instead of two. The humanity."

It had seemed like things were generally better, but to know that the numbers supported that feeling was somehow vindicating.

"What do you want me to do with him?" she finished, flashing you a dark look.

"Just send him somewhere." you suggested "He didn't technically do anything."

"That's very kind of you, Sam." Felix smiled "And while this initial meeting wasn't as successful as it could have been, it was still nice to finally meet you, little miss heir. Face to face... to face."

It took a second for what he said to process. When you realised that he was talking about the scarred up side of her face, any doubts you might have had that he wasn't an asshole disappeared from your mind. A minute twitch in her visible eye was all the indication that it had bothered before she smiled. Before you could even ponder that reaction, she took a deep breath and screamed at the top of her lungs.

Instantly, the ground started to shake with heavy footprints, and Kei gently pushed you to the side as her father stormed into the bathroom. Felix looked ready to shit a brick the second he saw him, which you were sure you would in his position. The guy was even bigger and uglier up close. He didn't even need to ask his daughter what was wrong, zeroing in on the be-suited man against the wall.

"You." her father growled to her in an accent you couldn't place "Wait outside."

Kei made the crying motion with her hands as she looked back at Felix, taking your hand and leading you back into the sunlight.

"S-s-sir, please, there's been a misunderstanding..." you heard him start before the door swung closed behind you.

The kid grinned at you, which startled a laugh from your tense shoulders.

"That's one way to deal with it, I guess..." you chuckled "How did your dad know where you were?"

"We all have our ways." was the only explanation she'd give you "But seriously, are you okay? I'm... getting bad vibes off you."

"My atom is agitated?" you recalled, making her laugh.

"Something like that."

Hearing a commotion from within the bathroom, the two of you walked away, looking casual.

"Just been a heavy kind of day." you admitted "I'll be alright. Sorry to cut into your day with your dad."

"It's my duty to protect the weak." she almost chanted by rote before snapping to "Not that I'm implying you're weak!"  

"I am weak." you assured "But thank you."

Hearing your name being called across the park, you looked up to see a concerned Papyrus on his feet, ready to come look for you. You both gave him a little wave.

"I'll let you go." Kei finished "Say 'hi' to Papyrus for me, okay?"

"I'll give him a kiss for you." you teased, heading back to the boys as Kei hopped up on the low wall to wait for her father to be finished with Felix.

* * *

 

You weren't sure what woke you up, but you were suddenly painfully aware of how awake you were. It was late, quiet, and the only lights came from the occasional passing cars in the street below. Your eyes quickly became accustomed to the gloom, but you didn't need them to know where everyone in the room was. Sans was attached to your side like a limpet, like he was every night, arms wrapped around you like he was afraid you would phase out of existence if he didn't. Papyrus was on his mattress on the floor to your immediate side, which you knew because his hand had a tight hold of yours as it hung off the edge.

Another car passed in the street below, strobing light across the room.

In that moment, for the first time in a long time, you thought about your mother. You thought about the tiny flats she tried her best to make a home, sharing the one bed with two quarrelsome little children, most likely lying awake as you were now, wondering what would happen the next time the burners found them. You missed her. It had been so long, but whenever you thought about it, it still hurt. You wished you remembered your father better. You wished your brother was still here.

"Papyrus, put your phone away." you ordered quietly, but it almost sounded like a shout in the silence.

The hand that held yours twitched, but the slight glow of the phone screen disappeared. Sans stirred a little, adjusting his head on your shoulder before falling back to sleep.

You wandered for a moment what your mother would think of the life you had now. Would she be glad you were finally free of the burners? Would she be disappointed in the life you were living?

Papyrus' hand shifted as he got comfortable, but he didn't let go. Sans sighed deeply in his sleep.

You smiled a little. If you remembered your mother correctly at all, you know she'd just be happy you weren't facing this world alone.

* * *

In the end, you overslept, calling Margaret to apologise and let her know as you shoved toast into your mouth with one hand and pulled your jacket on with the other, while a still mostly-asleep Sans pottered around the kitchen, clumsily bumping plates into things in a semblance of activity. You were half way to the train station when you realised you had kissed him goodbye as he handed you the lunch Papyrus had packed, but now wasn't the time to process that.

As you arrived at the bookshop, you saw Papyrus on his lunch break, sat outside the cafe with Kei.

"I didn't know any humans lived in Blook Acres." you heard him ponder.

"Just me and my dad." she confirmed "He said he wanted to understand what it was like to see ghosts."

You left those crazy kids to their conversation and rushed into the shop, an amused Margaret shaking her head at you as you ducked behind the till to drop your stuff in the side room.

"Good afternoon, sir, how can I help you?" you heard her say.

"I certainly hope so." a deep, classy voice intoned "It was fathers day yesterday and I didn't see hide nor hair of either of my sons. I understand that Papyrus works here?"

"Oh, you're his dad? He was outside just now..."

Papyrus' father? You couldn't have heard that right. If it was, you were sure Papyrus would vibrate into another plane of existence rather than face him. While curiosity did peck at you a little, far stronger was the swell of protectiveness that rose like an angry beast within you. If that was Sans and Papyrus' father, you wanted him gone as soon as possible.

Putting on your best customer service face, you left the side room and approached the desk. Stood before it was a tall skeleton, cracks running up and down his face which you were sure you had seen somewhere before. The expression on his face was pleasant enough as he spoke to Margaret, neutral, masking his sins. You immediately hated him.

You didn't have the chance to say anything before he noticed you, his pleasant demeanour morphing instantly into a disgusted, enraged snarl.

" _Am I never to be rid of you?"_ he hissed.

You sat up quickly, smacking your head against the metal frame of the bunk bed above you.

Wait... what?

You looked around. You were in what looked like a barracks, bare metal bunks lining the empty hall. It was night, and it was silent but for the breathing and snoring of the others in the room and the distant sound of dogs barking. The bunk above you shuffled as a familiar, painfully thin woman looked over the side.

"Hey Sam," Abbie greeted, voice tired and hoarse "More nightmares? Try to get some sleep, okay kiddo?"

Her face disappeared. Head hurting, mind reeling, you lay back down, staring at the old, stained mattress above you.

That was it.

_That_ was it.

That was a reset...

 


	11. The Worst Possible Timeline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is there any feeling quite like reading something that's just REALLY GOOD?! That last chapter of Aggre(g/v)ation just got me PUMPED!! Definitely give that baby a read if you haven't already!

 "y'know what they say, cuz, 'tis better to have loved and lost, yadda yadda yadda and all that jazz."

Red, the latest of the long line of 'cousins' folded into this reality by the reset, downed his fire whiskey and slapped Sans companionably on the back, jolting him a little on the high barstool.

"don't dwell on the past." he went on "ya gotta find a new love, move on, learn to let go. and more importantly, get drunk! nothin' clears the cobwebs like a good shot of fire whiskey! grillbz, can i get a couple more over here?"

Stretch, sat on Sans other side, sneered at the beverage, sipping on the honey whiskey he'd been nursing for the better part of an hour.

"i don't think getting drunk is the best idea." he opined "you shouldn't drink when you're sad - that's how problems develop."

Sans stared dispassionately at the dark liquid in the glass before him. Not honey, or fire, just plain, boring whiskey. Much like him.

Resets were a hell of a thing. The him of this timeline had never been an alcoholic, so he was no longer physically addicted to the amber poison before him, and while its mental hold on him was greatly reduced, he couldn't deny that he still wanted it, still lusted for the taste and the burn and the sweet oblivion it offered him.

That's what he really wanted. Oblivion. Forgetting. The illusion of control.

This new timeline was nothing short of a nightmare. Somehow - and Sans didn't care to find out how - human magicians had been labelled public enemy number one, rounded up into camps, kept imprisoned without trial, and much worse besides. The burners you had been so traumatised by before were now government-sanctioned death squads, acting with complete impunity. There was no way he'd be able to find you, either because you were so deep in hiding that every witch hunter in the entire world had no idea where you were, or because... because they already had you...

Why was he so fucking useless? 

"ha, what problems?!" Red barked jovially, slamming his again empty glass on the counter "sansy-boy is the luckiest fucker in the whole world! he's rich, he's guaranteed a position in government if he ever gets off his lazy ass, and best of all he doesn't have to share it with anyone! ain't that right, mr. only-child?"

Red elbowed him in the ribs, trying to make him laugh, but all it really did was deepen the ever-expanding gulf within him.

He was completely alone.

In every single reset, Gaster couldn't stop Papyrus coming into creation. Even when he went out of his way to avoid it, it somehow ended up happening anyway: a one-night stand, a drunken experiment, an accident in the lab... somehow, there was always a Papyrus.

Not here, though. Somehow, he'd actually done it. He'd actually stopped Papyrus from existing...

Sans grabbed the drink before him and downed it.

To his surprise, what greeted him was not the tang of whiskey and the burn of alcohol, but the cloying sweetness and light tingle of apple juice. He looked at Grillby, who was innocently polishing a glass on the other end of the counter and pretending not to be watching. Did some little part of him remember, or was he just being a responsible bar tender and not serving someone who was obviously depressed?

Noticing he was being stared at, said barman walked over.

"What would you like?" he asked, looking at Sans pointedly.

Was he actually leaving it in his hands? Letting him decide? So many choices had been taken out of his hands, tossed to the wind without a second thought, that the idea that choosing to drink again was his decision was lowkey shocking. His gaping loneliness had caused him to have a moment of weakness, but...

"same again, please grillbz."

Grillby just nodded, took the empty glass, and disappeared to Stretches other side so what he was doing was less obvious to Red, with whom he had just left the entire bottle of fire whiskey. Stretch, who spotted exactly what was going on, patted Sans back approvingly.

Nothing would last forever. Not any of the resets that came before, and not this one. Even if he had to wait for the next reset to see you and Papyrus again, he knew that he would see you, and when that happened, he would face you sober. Now he was expecting it, the tart apple tang was refreshing, the acid washing his weakness away.

He could do this. He would do it.

Red broke into his thoughts as he elbowed him in the ribs again, laughing at something or other that he had said, while Stretch just groaned theatrically, jostling Sans as he reached over him to hit Red on the back of his head.

Sans couldn't help but laugh too. You and Papyrus may not be here, but at least he wasn't completely alone.

* * *

 

Papyrus was not what you would call a lucky person. ~~Abandoned~~ Orphaned as a baby, he had grown up in a succession of worse-and-worse orphanages and foster homes, and just when he thought things couldn't get any worse for him, he discovered that he wasn't even close to rock bottom yet. Every time he tried to take a positive step in his life, something stopped him. He left school with no qualifications, not because he was stupid, but because he failed every one of his tests (even though his answers were the same as people who had passed comfortably), his application to be in the royal guard was rejected, and every single job he had applied for gave him the 'thanks but no thanks' before he even had an interview!

It was almost as if someone was doing this to him on purpose.

But that was preposterous, of course! Papyrus didn't even have any friends, let alone any enemies!

Papyrus was nothing if not an optimist. Things would get better for him, he just had to work hard. Things couldn't rightly get worse, could they? ( _Don't think that_ , he scolded himself, _you know perfectly well they can_.)

The royal guard may have rejected his application, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to do his part for monster-kind. He had applied for all sorts of government jobs, anything that he thought would help people - beautification worker, trash collector, crossing guard, the list went on! But this was the only one who even called him back.

He wished he'd turned them down.

The rain was unbearable. It fell in sheets, so hard it hurt, turning this already depressing place into a muddy, swampy pit of despair. He walked between the metal barracks quickly, doing his best not to look in the windows. He had been in trouble for being too friendly with the children more than once, but... well, they were children! Just because his colleagues could be so hardhearted, that didn't mean that he could!

He wasn't sure which part of this place he hated more - the unheated metal and concrete barracks, crammed with people who never did a damn thing wrong except be born with magic, the razor wire fences that were twice as high as he was tall, the mud that was currently sucking him in up to his ankles, or... his post.

He had been confused, for a while, why the advert for his job hadn't been removed from the newspaper even after he filled it. His boss had told him they didn't expect him to be there long, one way or another. He found out very quickly what that meant.

The armed guards at the door to the bunker recognised him, letting him pass without incident. The heavy metal door was rusting, getting harder and harder to open, but he supposed the higher-ups would be quite happy if it rusted shut forever. The guards inside were a little more fastidious, checking his ID before letting him further in. When he started here, he had been surprised by all the thin rooms, no more than five foot wide, every ten feet or so, that had no doors. Turned out there were no rooms - the walls were just that thick.

Cruel laughter met his lack of ears, making his not-stomach turn. The night shift was leaving. He had hoped to avoid them today. He entered the locker room anyway, unzipping the plastic cover on the front of his locker, and proceeding to change into the bunkers special uniform. No metal, nothing hanging loose, no laces, no skin (of lack thereof) showing.

"Hey there, Puh-puh-puh-Papyrus." one of the night shift greeted meanly "How's the wuh-wuh-weather?"

"F-Fine." he answered.

They all laughed. He hated this damn stutter, and they knew it. He wished he could answer them back, but even the best quips just became a stuttered mess the second they met his tongue.

The night shift immediately shut up when Mr Roman entered the room. Mr Roman scared the crap out of Papyrus. He scared the crap out of everyone, but Papyrus was the one who had to work with him. English wasn't Mr Romans first language - Papyrus was pretty sure it wasn't even his second, or third - and whatever his mother tongue was made it difficult for him to speak it well, leading to him never saying much of anything. His silence led many to consider him an idiot, but Papyrus wasn't that foolish: the one time he dared look in those pitiless black eyes, he saw a cruel, remorseless intelligence that terrified him to his very core.

He still preferred him to the night shift guys, though. Those guys were dicks. At least Mr Roman took his job seriously.

"Hey there, Papa Bear." that same guy that taunted Papyrus greeted.

Mr Roman just growled at him, disdain clear in his face.

"G-G-Good morning." Papyrus said, to which he only nodded.

Both dressed, they went to leave the room. Mr Roman stopped long enough to grab the cocky night shift jerk tightly around the neck, no doubt choking him as he lifted him a good few inches off the ground.

"One hair." he growled lowly into his ear "You dead."

He dropped him with no further ceremony, and led Papyrus to the vault. They signed for their weapons, checking them over as per regulation, and were let into the vault, the weighty round door swinging heavily on its old hinges. Papyrus took a deep breath before stepping in.

The vault was about a ten foot concrete square, no windows or natural lights, the vents only just big enough to let the semi-fresh air in. In the dead centre of the room was a concrete throne, a mockery of an actual seat, and upon the throne was the vaults one and only prisoner. Were they guarding them, or were they guarding the world from them? Although there was no official answer for that question, Mr Roman knew which answer he preferred.

He walked over to the figure in the chair, kneeling down and inspecting them closely, patting their small head with a gentle touch as he said something in his mother tongue. The head leaned into his hand, the only kind of communication it was capable of.

Papyrus thought he would get used to it after a while, but it never stopped revolting him. The small figure was human, but there weren't any recognisable features left. Their skin was entirely made up of scar tissue, the mottled burns covering their bald head and what little Papyrus could see of their arms. Their eyes were covered by a metal blindfold that was as heavy as it was brutal, a gag that stopped them speaking fastened firmly over their mouth, and their hands were encased in custom metal cuffs. Apparently, they had been moulded to stop the prisoner from moving their hands in the slightest. They worked. No need to shackle their legs - those they just cut off.

"How is?" Mr Roman asked the prisons doctor.

"She's not been sleeping again." she told him "Makes her cranky. You know she killed another feeder yesterday."

Papyrus pretended he hadn't heard that. He pretended he hadn't seen what actually happened.

This place, this awful, terrible place, and the trauma it caused, was capable of bringing out the best in people. Papyrus had seen some of the prisoners setting up schools in their barracks to made sure the children had some kind of education, had seen them carrying those too weak to walk, making sure everyone had enough food, forming their own little families to try and cope with how horrible everything here was.

It could also bring out the worst in people, and giving them any modicum of power over anyone else would expose the darkest parts of their soul. The figure in the seat, no bigger than a child, was kept helpless and defenceless by both their physical and chemical maiming, and some people saw that as an invitation to do whatever they wanted to them. Verbal taunting, refusal of food, even physical abuse. Those with darkness in their hearts thought they'd found the perfect target.

It was a mistake they only got to make once.

Mr Roman had shot the feeder. Just as many of the black bags that filed out of the vault were filled by him as by their prisoner. Papyrus wanted to be against everything that this place was, to be shocked at it all, to stand up and rally for everything that was right, and good, and...!

He couldn't. He just wasn't lucky that way. He'd be just another body in a bag, forgotten by the world within a month.

"Yesterday." Mr Roman told the doctor "Tooth hurt, you fix."

"I'm not putting my hand anywhere near that things mouth." was her harsh answer as she finished her paperwork and walked away.

Enraged, Mr Roman jumped to his feet as if to attack her, but Papyrus managed to stop him with his blue magic. He had to settle for flipping her off as the vault door closed behind her, kneeling back down in front of the prisoner.

"Breakfast soon." he said "Then you sleep. No fighting."

The figures head turned ever so slightly to Papyrus. He still had no idea how it knew where in the room he was.

"G-G-Good m-morning." the skeleton greeted "It's r-raining tod-day."   

The prisoner seemed to relax a little upon hearing his voice. Their hearing was the only sense they really had left, and they calmed down when they were spoken to kindly.

Papyrus was well aware that the prisoner was supposedly a girl, but thrust up and scarred as they were, it was difficult enough for him to even picture them as human.

Mr Roman slung his weapon over his shoulder, pulling a book from somewhere in his robes, and sitting down beside the concrete throne.

"Chapter 4." he began with no preamble "Jessica was already there when Dr August arrived..."

He read slowly, taking his time with sounds his throat wasn't used to. Mr Roman hadn't earned the nickname 'Papa Bear' just because he kind of looked like one - the only being in the world he showed any kind of sincerity to was the prisoner, and woe betide anyone who messed with them.

Papyrus simply stood at his post beside the vault door, trying not to let Mr Romans sonorous, slow reading lull him to sleep.

It was about an hour later, right on schedule, that the mechanism deep within the metal door started to turn, slowly opening to reveal the new feeder.

Why not just let the prisoner starve? They had tried that. They had tried lots of ways of killing them, but nothing seemed to stick.

As usual, the feeder was another one of the prisoners - one less mouth to feed if Mr Roman lost his temper again. This one seemed fairly level-headed, even if they couldn't hide the horror and revulsion on their face as they beheld the prisoner for the first time.

"Papyrus, this is Sam." the guard outside introduced "The new feeder. Run down the rules, will you?"

With that, they shut the vault door again. Sam looked up at him, surprise and sadness in their eyes.

"H-H-Hello, I'm P-P-P..." he gave up for a minute and sighed, trying to untangle his tongue "Puh-pyrus. I'm the d-d-day shift with-"

"Roman." his colleague introduced brusquely, standing and putting away his book "Rule one: keeps your hands to yourself."

"D-Don't p-put your hands a-a-anywhere n-near the prisoners mouth." Papyrus went on "They b-b-bite."

Sam gave Papyrus a strange look, expression sad once again. Before he could ponder on it too much, they smiled at him.

"Don't worry," they assured him "Everything's going to be fine."

That seemed... really reassuring? He wasn't really sure why, but he felt like Sam had everything under control. Their very presence was, again, reassuring. Like an old friend.

Weird...

Sam shuffled toward the prisoner, plastic tray in their hands. The metal magic-restricting collar around their neck looked heavy. They knelt on the floor in front of the throne, stirring the unappetising porridge a little to spread the heat.

"Hey there, Kei." they greeted the prisoner "Hope you're hungry. This looks a bit like wallpaper paste, but I'm sure it tastes okay."

Mr Roman's eyes were fixed on Sam, sizing them up. It looked like he wasn't quite sure what to think of them. When Sam locked eyes with him, he remembered his job and untied the gag, slipping it exceedingly carefully from the prisoners mouth. Along with simply covering it, there was a flat metal tongue depressor that sat uncomfortably in the prisoners mouth, and wasn't nearly as filed down as it should have been. Spit and blood stuck to it as Mr Roman pulled it away.

To Papyrus' surprise, the prisoners mouth immediately snapped closed. Sam just laughed, a gentle noise, like a mother waiting for a stubborn child to yield.

"Don't like porridge?" they asked "Can't say I blame you. I prefer pancakes, myself, but this is what we have. C'mon, open up."

They held a spoonful of the tepid oats to the prisoners mouth, but it remained steadfastly closed. Sam waited.

"How about a deal." they suggested after a moment "If I can guess your favourite book, you take a bite. Okay?"

Mr Roman looked just as confused as Papyrus felt. Sam seemed quietly confident in a way no-one usually was around the prisoner.

"I bet it's... Charlotte's Web."

For an uncomfortable moment, nothing happened. Then the prisoner opened their mouth, and Sam popped the spoon in.

"Shall we keep going?" they suggested "I bet I know what your favourite animal is. Dogs right? I bet you like big, dumb ones the best."

Another mouthful of porridge.

"And I'm going to guess you're a big fan of science."

Another one.

The room was getting dark, even though the lights remained on. That could only mean one thing.

"S-S-S-Sam, pu-please s-s-stop what you're d-d-doing!" Papyrus begged.

"It's alright." they assured without even blinking "I'm not scared."

Papyrus readied his weapon, even though he knew it was useless. All around, the darkness started to squirm, writhing and undulating as it drew in all around them. Sam kept their eyes on the prisoner.

"Bet I know who your dad is."

Papyrus startled as Sam was grabbed by hands from the darkness. No, they were _made_ of darkness. For all the magic suppressants, all the physical and chemical restraints, they couldn't stop all of the Heir's powers. Sam didn't even flinch as the hands held them firm. One, much larger and far more... _demonic_ looking, rested on their head, the long claws disappearing beneath their skin. It drew no blood, however.

"Sam... Weaver..." 

It spoke. He'd worked here almost six months, and he had never heard the prisoner speak. He was supposed to shoot them on sight if they ever tried, but... but...

"You have... interesting things... to tell me." they... she... wheezed weakly "You have... plan?"

"Are you still able to walk through the shadows?" Sam asked seriously.

The Heir just laughed bitterly.

"Not walking at all." she replied.

"I have some ideas. For now, please be patient. I don't know if I can trigger another reset on my own, so when I leave, you'll be going with me."

Something snapped in Mr Roman, and he jumped to his feet, drawing his weapon. Instead of aiming it at Sam, as he had done many times before, he strode right up to Papyrus and stuck the firearm under his chin.

"Waitwaitwaitwaitwait-!" the skeleton begged, dropping his weapon and throwing up his hands to show he wasn't a threat.

"Don't!" Sam yelled, genuinely panicked for the first time as they spun around quickly, almost tripping in their haste to get up.

"No loose ends." Mr Roman growled, those pitiless black eyes locked on Papyrus.

Sam, finally on their feet, grabbed Mr Romans arm to beg his mercy, but a strange kind of calm fell over the him. He understood the situation perfectly, and he understood truly how unlucky he was. 

"You should kill me." Papyrus agreed.

This stayed Mr Romans hand, Sams mouth falling open in horror.

"If they find out I let the prisoner escape, I'll be dust." he knew "But if I blow the whistle, things here will only get worse for everyone, and I can't live with that. If I can't live either way, then let me die now."

Mr Roman looked at him as if in a new light. After a moments thought, he dropped his gun.

"You not stutter." he pointed out "Good. You become man yet."

He slapped him twice on the skull in a manner that Papyrus was sure was supposed to be friendly before walking away. Sam immediately ran to him, checking him over for damage. They sighed, exhaustion radiating from them, when they saw he was unharmed, wrapping their arms around him.

There was that familiar feeling again...

"Papyrus, I need you to talk to Sans as soon you can." they asked him as they pulled away "I can't explain now, but just tell him that Sam-"

"Who's Sans?" he interrupted.

Sams face dropped like a lead weight. Their eyes searched his face for any hint of a lie, panicking ever so slightly when they found none. They adapted quickly, serious face sliding into place.

"There's a bar called Grillby's." they told him "It's run by a flame monster. You can find Sans there. He's a skeleton, same as you."

Papyrus didn't know what to think. Despite the odd deja vu that had settled on him like a sleeping cat, he had only just met this person. And he was a guard at their prison, no less! Why were they so willing to trust him? At least Mr Roman had worked with him for months, he had reason to think Papyrus could keep his word.

Was he really going to do this? If he helped them escape, not only was he turning his back on his job, but on the law, on his entire government, on his very people! What pathetic excuse he had for a life would be over. Was he really willing to risk everything?

As his mind reeled, he noticed a red welt all around Sams neck where the collar had rubbed away their skin. The figure in the chair... the Heir... Kei... they had done far worse to her, but for some reason seeing the bright red ring, the exhausted and haunted expression in their eyes, roused something deep within his soul that he couldn't ignore.

"I'll do me b-best." he swore.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ideas time!
> 
> So I've been pondering making an occasional series called Love... but What If? to make a bunch of one-shots on variations of the 'Love?' series. Like, 'what if Edge fell in love with reader instead of Red?', or 'what if Rus had had bad intentions after all?', 'what if character x had been involved?', etc etc etc.
> 
> The question is, is this something people would actually be interested in reading, or am I just beating a dead horse? The series would be open for submissions, so if you're interested, let me know in the comments what 'what if's you'd like to see.


	12. Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why this chapter was so hard to write, but I just couldn't get anything down for the longest time...

He couldn't believe he was doing this. Even as he was standing outside the dark wooden door of Grillby's, Papyrus debated with himself about whether or not he wanted to leave his house, let alone help you with your insane plan.

He wanted to do the right thing, and this was the right thing, wasn't it? What was happening to the magicians was wrong, and if he could help even one person to escape from that place, then it was worth it, right?

That didn't mean he wasn't scared. His life may be worthless overall, but it was still the only one he had, and he wasn't keen to throw it away so soon. What would happen to him if he got caught?

Immediately, images of the prisoners he watched flashed through his mind. Children denied a childhood, the elderly and disabled denied medicine. The legless, burned husk of a person locked up in a vault behind five foot thick walls. Whatever might happen to him would be no worse than what was already happening to so many others. Now Papyrus had been given an opportunity to do something about it, he wasn't going to chicken out. One person can make a difference! They can!

You certainly seemed to think he could...

With a final deep breath, he opened the door and stepped into the bar.

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but the place was actually rather nice. It was homey and welcoming, but it filled him with an anxiety he couldn't place. Papyrus looked around carefully, but he couldn't see any sign of another skeleton, so headed unsurely to the bar. A fire monster nodded to him as he took a seat.

"Good evening, Stretch." he greeted.

Papyrus was taken aback - sure, he was tall and skinny, but such familiarity with someone he had literally just met was very off putting!

"Looking for Sans?" he went on, polishing a glass.

Had he been rumbled already?! He hadn't even said anything!

"Y-Yes?" the skeleton answered, trying to grin in a friendly manner.

"He's not here at the moment." the bartender told him "But knowing him he'll show up sooner or later. You want the usual?"

'The usual'? Was that code for something? Some kind of underground rebellion stuff?

"S-Sure?"    

The bartender looked at him carefully. Did he say the wrong thing? Was that not the right code?! His teeth were starting to hurt from how hard he was grinning.

"Stretch, you shouldn't drink if your anxiety is playing up." the bartender said "Alcohol will only make it worse."

HOW DID HE KNOW?!

"I-I-It's-s ok-kay." he swore.

Oh good, his stuttering was worse than usual.

The bartender just sighed, shaking his head, before grabbing a glass from above the bar.

"You can stay and wait for Sans, but no alcohol." he ordered "I swear, I spend more time convincing you skeletons not to drink than actually serving you. It's not good for business, you know."

Papyrus just smiled and nodded as he was handed a milkshake, the bartender prattling on at him like an old friend before he went to serve some other customers.

* * *

Some things never change.

For Sans, there was no getting out of judging duties, no matter what timeline he was in. At least he could approach them sober this time. He couldn't even remember the ones from the last reset...

This one had been a doozy. A young woman and her kids had been hauled in, accused of being magicians. She had sworn up and down that she wasn't, that her neighbours had made it up because they wanted her flat and didn't like her kids, that they were all innocent. Sans wasn't even sure if he would be able to tell if she was or not, but the second the judgement began, there it was in bright letters across her soul: magician.

He wanted to lie. He wanted to give the young mother and her kids a chance, to spare them from the things he had heard about what they did with magicians. Unfortunately, the judgement power didn't work that way. He couldn't lie, no matter how much he wanted to, and the second the 'm' word left his mouth, the young woman was being dragged away, kicking and screaming, her kids crying desperately, shrill enough to break glass.

Sans felt like shit. His judgement power had never been anything but trouble, but it had never actively hurt anyone before...

He startled a little as a cup of tea was held in front of his face. Looking up, he saw Toriel smiling down at him. It was a strained, pitying smile, tight on its corners. She looked just as bad as he felt. Sans took the tea, shuffling up the bench in the city hall courtyard to make room for her. She sat, smoothing her smart skirt down under herself first. For a moment, there was silence.

"I heard about your judgement." Toriel started "I understand it must have been difficult-"

"how can you justify this?" Sans interrupted "that woman, those kids... they didn't do anything to anyone. what possible justification could you have for what we're doing?"

The queen winced, as if physically stung by his words.

"I don't like it any more than you do." she told him "As awful as it is, this _is_ the best solution. All it takes is seven human magicians to destroy our entire race. Your father is the one who discovered that."

 _of course he fucking did,_ Sans thought bitterly, occupying his mouth with the scalding hot liquid.

"It took me a full month to talk Wing down from just killing them all." she went on "That's the best they can expect down south. The humans there hate magicians, we at least are doing this to protect ourselves!"

"whatever helps you sleep at night."

Toriel just looked at him. From the looks of her, she hadn't been sleeping at all.

"All the men are infertile." she went on "But if one woman slips through our fingers, she alone could produce the seven magicians needed to destroy us. We have to take precautions."

It sounded more like she was justifying it to herself than to him. Maybe she was.

"This is the world we live in." she finished with a deep sigh "I wish it was different, but we need to face the world as it is."

"we're the ones who decide how the world is, your majesty." Sans finished "i can't speak for the south, but up here we're the ones in charge. if even you, the goddamn queen, don't like the way things are, why don't you change it?"

Toriel's spine went a little stiff, and she looked around warily.

"Be careful what you say, Sans." she warned quietly "You above all people should know the walls have ears."

Sans glanced around - on the other side of the courtyard, two monsters who had been looking at them quickly pretended to have been talking amongst themselves the whole time, nodding over some document or other. 

Was he being watched? By who?

Sans crushed the empty plastic cup in his hand, throwing it into the bin on the other side of the path before standing up.

"always nice talking with you, tori." he finished.

He looked right at the watchers, who were once again peeking at him, flipped them the double bird, and shortcutted away.

* * *

You weren't sure where you were going. It was the first time you had left the camp since waking up in this timeline, decked out in your starchy uniform and heavy irons as you sat in the back of the police car. The young officer driving you was clearly uncomfortable, glancing back at you every now and again as the traffic allowed. The tapping of his fingers on the steering wheel betrayed his nerves. Did he know what was going on? Or was he so nervous because he didn't?

You couldn't ask him, not with the gag in your mouth. It wasn't as brutal as the one they used on Kei, but it did it's job well enough, silencing you completely. You tried to stay calm, but the fear of the unknown clawed at you. Where were you going? What was going to happen when you got there? Would you be coming back? Anything was possible in this awful place.

After quite some time of driving - how long you couldn't say - you started to see more signs of civilisation: houses, shops, other cars. Those signs grew until you could safely say you were in a city. Was there an underground here? Hidden markets? If there was even the slightest chance you could get away, was there anywhere you could even go? You highly doubted it, especially with the shackles on your feet.

The officer drove you to a very clean and clearly monied part of the city, driving up to a building so tall you couldn't see the top from the car, and showing his ID to the guard at the underground parking lot. The guard waved him through, the metal gate sliding open, and he drove a little longer until he came to a lift, parking in the space marked 'private' beside it.

This was your end point? Was it a company building? A residential one? Why would you be bought here in either case?

The young officer adjusted his cap and uniform as he got out, before opening the door for you. To your surprise, he held out his hand in offer to help you up. He didn't seem like a bad sort, so you accepted the offer. Once you were on your feet and the car door was locked behind you, he took your arm not to frogmarch you to the lift, but to steady you.

"Watch your step." he advised as you came to a rise in the tarmac.

To your surprise, there was a security lock on the lift, and it took a keycard the officer had to open it. The lift took forever to come down, and forever again to reach the only floor it went to. It was the single fanciest lift you had ever seen, with an actual marble floor and polished brass accents. The officer seemed just as uncomfortable in it as you did, which left you feeling an odd sense of camaraderie with him.

Whoever was responsible for this was clearly very rich. Did they own the building? And what would someone like that want with you? You would find out soon enough, you supposed.

The door opened to a foyer that was not just luxurious, but conspicuously luxurious. Tasteless, poorly designed. A high-rise mcmansion. Money doesn't buy class, afterall.

At the other end of the foyer, the frosted glass doors opened, a familiar bright red mane of hair and sharp suit walking casually through.

"You're here! Wonderful!" Felix greeted, opening his arms in a wide open gesture "Come in, come in!"

You and the officer shared a look. Had he not been expecting this either? What did he think was going to happen? The officer walked you in, keeping his eyes not on you, his prisoner, but on Felix. In some kind of lounge area, your host turned around with that same political smile he had pulled out in the bathroom the last time you had seen him.

"Officer, the key?" he requested, holding out his hand "I can assure you, those restraints are quite needless."

"With all due respect sir, I have my orders." the officer replied seriously.

"This particular magician isn't at all dangerous." he tried to convince him "You don't need to worry about them running away up here, either."

"Even so." was his only answer.

The officer clearly didn't trust Felix, and you honestly couldn't blame him. The entire two times you could remember meeting him, he hadn't exactly proven himself trustworthy. The hosts eye twitched, almost minutely, as he lowered his hand. 

"Have it your way." he sighed in an exaggerated manner "But you're going to feel silly when you realise I'm right."

Turning on his expensive heels again, Felix led you to a door you wouldn't have known was there at a casual glance - there was no visible frame, and the door was flush to the wall, covered in the exact same obnoxious wallpaper. He gestured the two of you through, but the secrecy of the door only seemed to make the officer more wary. Regardless, he led you through.

The room on the other side was odd, the walls lined with monitors displaying bar charts, stock prices, pie charts and important looking streams of numbers. It was pretty impressive looking, and you might have been fooled by it if not for one thing.

' _Buzz words, shorthand_ ,' you remembered Kei saying after the Recallers meeting _'I mean fuck, did Clive Cussler come up with that? It's a lazy narrative.'_

You looked closely at one of the monitors. Right in front of your eyes, the scrolling numbers glitched, and were replaced by new ones. It was on a loop. None of the bar charts axis were labelled. You looked at each one carefully - there were only six designs, each repeated several times. This wasn't a working room - it was a stage.

"I can't blame you for being curious." Felix chuckled, strolling casually around and stopping in front of you "Allow me to introduce myself - my name is Felix Avalon, and I own this building."

'Introduce'? The realisation struck you - he didn't know you could remember him. If what he said about remembering the resets was true, he probably thought he had the advantage over you now. The creeping dread you had felt in that bathroom came back full force, but you tried to school your face into a neutral expression.

"I've bought you here for one reason, Sam Weaver." he went on, laughing a little "Yes, I do know your name, but don't be alarmed: I don't mean you any harm."

Felix shifted, sitting on the desk behind him in an attempt to look casual. You wandered if there was anything even written on those files he'd stacked up on the tabletop. 

"You wonderful magic, your ability to find people no matter where they are, is going to be put to good use." he told you "I've won a government contract, straight from the royal scientist himself. Officially, it's to find a way to make magicians easier to distinguish from non-magic humans. Some kind of test that can be administered on the street."

And you would help him with that because?

"But with your magic, I think we can take it further." he admitted "Magic runs in families, afterall. Families are tied together by the strings of fate. Strings that can't be hidden from your eyes."

Felix reached forward casually, taking the glasses from your face. As they slid away, the world around you erupted into a billion coloured strings, blocking out everything else in your vision.

"Such beautiful eyes..." you heard him say airily.

To your immense relief, the officer with you was having none of that, and you felt his hand on your shoulder as he stood behind you.

"Please return those, Mr Avalon." he ordered "That's medical equipment, not a toy."

You really wished you could have seen the look on Felix' face.

"Of course." he said, passive-aggressive to the point of parody.

Carefully, your glasses were out back on your face. When the world came back into focus, Felix was stood on the other side of the room, looking intently at one of the monitors. You had to hand it to him - he had this act down to a 't'.

"Now, I know what you're thinking, Sam." he went on like nothing had happened "'Why on earth would I help you do that?'"

He had you there.

"'Why would I sell out my people?'" he continued "For one simple reason, Sam - your freedom."

Felix sat back at the desk. There was an excited glint in his eyes that you really didn't like.

"In return for your assistance, you'll be released from that awful internment camp."

'Awful'? Understatement.

"It's temporary, and only during work hours.'" he told you "But if everything goes well, I can talk the King and Queen into releasing you permanently. You'll need to prove you're completely unable to breed, but... well, that can be arranged."

You didn't like the sound of that...

Felix stood up from the desk, turning his attention away from you.

"Officer... what did you say your name was?" he asked.

"... Miles." he admitted begrudgingly.

"Miles, will you please remove Sams gag? I need to hear the answer to my proposal."

Miles hesitated again, but after a moment you heard the clatter of small keys, and the gag on your mouth was released. Your jaw was stiff and your breath was vile - how did Kei put up with this?

"So, what do you say, Sam?" he asked "Will you help me? For freedom?"

You wanted to spit in his face. Instead, you smiled.

"When do we start?"   


	13. Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Folks! Its been a while, but I was busy over in Love? But What If? doing the seasonal special! Check out that fic if you haven't already, it's wild!
> 
> Also it was my birthday last week, and I made the mistake of buying myself a switch and Breath of the Wild... needless to say my week off just evaporated after that!

It wasn't until Stretch walked in while Papyrus was sat at the bar that Grillby realised his mistake. By then it was Papyrus' fifth visit, so the proprietor was more than a little embarrassed.

"Why didn't you say anything?!" he demanded, flames going blue as he heated up.

"I d-didn't know you'd mist-taken me." Papyrus explained, holding up his hands "Sorry..."

"And I've been calling you 'Stretch' this whole time." Grillby sighed, rubbing his eyes "That was so rude of me. What _is_ your name?"

"P-P-P-P-fuck."

Papyrus clamped his hand over his mouth when he realised what had slipped out. Grillby was of course used to his stuttering by now, but not being able to say his own name clearly was still embarrassing. Stretch burst out laughing, flopping onto the seat beside his.

"'papyrus', right?" he somehow knew.

Papyrus just nodded, hand still over his mouth. How did he know his name?

"is your sans with you?" Stretch went on.

'Your' Sans? What did that mean? Stretch picked up on his confusion easily, turning to Grillby with a smile.

"hey, can i get a bottle of honey whiskey, two glasses and some nuts?" he asked.

'Go away' is what he really meant. Grillby seemed to understand, as he nodded and wandered off.

"so, tell be about yourself." Stretch pried "where are you from, buddy?"

"I d-didn't mean t-t-to imp-imp-imp..." unable to wrap his tongue around that word, he just sighed, but Stretch just chuckled.

"'impersonate me'?" he finished "don't worry, i'm not mad about that. skeletons are pretty rare monsters, i thought i knew them all. i just want to get to know you, bud."

"It may t-t-take a while." Papyrus admitted.

"long story?" Stretch asked.

"No." he replied "Bad st-st-stutter."

Stretch chuckled again, but somehow Papyrus felt it wasn't at his expense. Grillby had said before that Stretch had anxiety - perhaps chuckling was a nervous habit?

"don't worry." the slouching skel assured, pulling a lollypop from his pocket and shelling the wrapper "i have all day."  

* * *

Once the ice had been broken, it turned out that Miles was quite the talker - when he came to pick you up a few days after your encounter with Felix to return you to the city, he could barely shut up longer than it took him to navigate a tricky junction. Maybe he was nervous? He even pulled into a drive-through on the way to get breakfast for you both every morning.

"How old is your sister now?" you asked him.

"She's eleven." he answered, looking back briefly in the rear view mirror.

"Twelve years is quite the gap."

"She wasn't exactly planned." he admitted with a chuckle "But she's a great kid, you'd really like her."

"What about you, Miles? Plan on having any kids?"

"That's... kind of a sore subject..."

"Sorry. Forget I said anything."

"Sure. But back to my original question?"

"It's a difficult age." you sighed "She's too old for most toys, but too young for teenage stuff. Have you considered taking her out to buy her own present?" 

"See, that's what I thought!" Miles cried "You should have seen the way my parents reacted!"

You chuckled at his theatrics, continuing your idle chatter all the way into the city, down into the parking lot, and up the long lift to Felix's penthouse. The whole thing still made Miles uncomfortable - the fact that it was in Felix's home and not some office or lab somewhere didn't help - and every day he offered to just drive you home again. It was nice of him, but as 'home' was a mud filled internment camp full of black mould and misery, you declined.

Felix pretended he hadn't been waiting for you, as usual, but the speed with which he appeared in the foyer once you stepped off the lift gave him away. He was dressed to the nines again, too. That couldn't be comfortable. Once again, he offered to not tell Miles' superiors if he took off for a few hours and just returned to pick you up, and once again Miles refused. It was a pantomime they both had some practice in by now, and insisted on performing every time you came here. A part of you wondered what Felix had planned if you ever where left alone with him.

It was taking Papyrus longer than expected to find Sans - it seemed the smaller skel had stayed sober in this timeline, which of course you were happy about, but it was making him far more difficult to track down. Where did he live? Did he have a job? You didn't know. You knew who his father was now, but considering how high up in the monster government he was, you weren't going to put Papyrus in danger by asking him to track down his address.

All you needed was an opening.

Felix led you to the room where his machine was, and put the brain scanner on your head as you sat on the chair. Whether the machine actually did anything, you weren't sure. You knew Felix was the master of illusion at this point, but this one was just convincing enough that it might have been doing something other than beeping and flashing. It wasn't doing very much, though, so you couldn't be certain.

"Okay Sam, we're going to pick up where we left of yesterday." Felix told you, over by the computer he was using as a control panel "Just focus on the pictures as they come up on the screen."

You couldn't see threads in a photograph - magic just didn't work that way - but you told Felix you could. Stroke his ego a little, let him think he's making progress.

Wait for an opportunity.

The issue was Miles - as nice of a guy as he was, he took his job seriously, and the fact that he didn't trust Felix as far as he could throw him meant that he didn't leave you unguarded longer than it took you to go to the bathroom, even knocking on the door if you were taking too long. If you ran, he would chase you.

You had no choice but to wait for Papyrus.

You broke for lunch. Miles pretended not to notice that you pocketed half of it when Felix wasn't looking, too busy ranting on about something or other. Not that that would stop him putting it in his lunch box to keep it fresh until you got back to camp. He was a good man, really.

After lunch, you got back to work. After work, Miles drove you home. You gave Abbie the food you had snuck in, as she had once again given her rations away to someone else.

Another day without progress. Another day with nothing to report to Kei and Roman.

Another day of waiting.

* * *

Sans felt numb as he hung up the phone. Stretch had of course called him after his long conversation with Papyrus, and told him everything.

He was here.

His brother was here.

Gaster hadn't stopped him from existing, just booted him like a foundling the second he was born. He'd been alone...

A deep rage erupted within him. Papyrus should never have been alone, not when his big brother loved him so much. And all the bad luck he had had... he could see their so-called fathers boney fingerprints all over this, purposely keeping him down, keeping them apart. It was always Papyrus that met you first, and-!

...

It was always Papyrus that met you first.

Papyrus was a guard in the prison camp they were keeping the magicians.

He had _already_ met you. 

Sans knew what he had to do. He packed only what he could carry, emptied his bank account, and left without looking back once.

His brother needed him. You needed him.

He wouldn't keep you waiting any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, I know this one is on the short side, but it's important setup for the next few chapters, which will defo be longer.
> 
> Ciao for now!


	14. It Only Takes One

"Is everything okay? You look awfully tired today."

Miles answered with a heavy sigh, exhaustion clear on his face.

"Just some local kid causing chaos in my precinct." he admitted, taking the moment you had some privacy in the lift to run his hands through his hair "It just keeps me up at night when they're so young, y'know?"

You hummed in agreement.

Both of you startled when the lift jerked to a stop, Miles catching you to make sure you didn't fall - you were still cuffed, after all. The white light turned red, and an automated voice rang out clearly in the small box.

"A fire has been detected in the building." it announced "Please evacuate via your nearest emergency exit. This is not a drill. Lift doors will open at the closest floor."

As if on cue, the lift started going down again for a few seconds, opening in some random hallway. Business people in overly expensive suits grumbled and checked their watches as they ambled to the fire escape in no great hurry at all, continuing their conference calls over the din and complaining about time being money. A few spotted you and Miles, he in his uniform and you in yours, and could barely contain their sneers.

For his part, Miles just sighed, aggravated, and took your upper arm a little more firmly than he usually did, keen not to let you be jostled by the crowd.

"Not my circus, not my monkeys." he grumbled.

There was a bottleneck at the door to the fire escape, which was understandable even under normal circumstances, but when you have a floor full of the Most Important Person in the World (as the upper middle class often felt themselves to be), there was bound to be added issues. Sure enough, some asshole half the size of a truck was blocking half the door while on his conference call, oblivious or simply uncaring about the people stuck in the hallway behind him. People started yelling at him to move, and he yelled at them to be quiet, to which every last one of them started yelling something different.

"A fight's going to break out." you predicted, hanging back at a safe distance.

"Oh god..." Miles groaned, well aware that he was a uniformed officer, and therefore the person who would have to take over such a circumstance to calm everyone down.

Well call you Nostradamus, because no sooner had you said it, it began - someone you couldn't see opened a fog fire extinguisher all over the asshole blocking the door, causing him to swing wildly at anyone within arms reach, who of course retaliated, and with everyone packed into the hallway they of course hit other people... Within seconds it was an all out brawl, and to make matters worse the automated voice was still telling everyone to evacuate over the noise.

"Amazing..." you noted.

Miles pulled you back further, away from the melee.

"Please wait here." he asked, before barging into the fray to break it up.

It was nice that the two of you had established enough of a rapport that he trusted you not to run off just because he asked nicely.

He shouldn't, though. If it wasn't for the fight blocking the fire escape and the lifts out of action, you'd already be gone. You were seriously considering climbing out of the window to the floor below and using the fire escape there, when something strange caught your eye.    

There was a pair of legs outside the window. Not even dangling, but stood as if on a solid surface. They were wearing black trousers, but were so thin they could only belong to a skeleton monster. You checked back briefly, finding Miles still busy, and jogged over. As you approached, the figure leaned down, revealing exactly the person you hoped to find.

Papyrus scanned the room as if looking for something, phone to his ear, before he spotted you, giving you a smile and a wave before he hung up. The window pane before him started glowing blue before the glass popped clear out of the socket, unheard against the wail of the siren. Papyrus stepped down... somehow... and held out his arms, invitation clear.

You weren't sure how he was staying suspended like that, but you sure as hell knew you couldn't do it. Were you willing to risk plummeting however many stories down the building to your death rather than go back to that camp?

Absolutely.

Luckily for you, Papyrus had never been afraid of calcium, and his strong bones easily lifted you from the floor and held you firmly.

"Sorry for the wait!" he yelled over the wind "There was some confusion as to what floor you were on! What even is a mezzanine anyway?!"

Not a single stutter. You didn't mention it, just in case it broke whatever spell of confidence he was under.

The glass floated back into place, the sound of the fire alarm dimming considerably.

"What is it with new buildings and windows that don't open?" Papyrus wandered.

"Please tell me you have a plan!" you begged, also yelling over the surprisingly loud wind this high off the ground as you looped your bound hands over his neck "Did you find Sans?!" 

"I did!" he confirmed, whole face lighting up "He's the one who came up with the plan!"

A thud beside you caught your attention. A bewildered Miles was looking out the window at you, having realised that it didn't actually open. You could see his confusion growing the longer he looked at you.

"I hope he doesn't get in too much trouble." you admitted.

"We should really go!" Papyrus thought "Hold tight!"

"So what exactly is the PLAAAAAAA-!"

Your words became terrified screaming as whatever was holding Papyrus up stopped doing just that, the two of you plummeting down at the speed of gravity. Papyrus didn't seem the least bit fazed, merely concentrating on the distance of the ground below. With no more warning than the tightening of his arms around you, the two of you stopped falling as quickly as you started.

"Oh stop being so dramatic!" Papyrus teased "You're perfectly safe!"

He stepped down a few more feet before he was finally on the ground, releasing you to terra firma. You responded to his teasing by turning on your heel and throwing up against the closest wall.

"Humans." he chuckled.

"paps! sam!"

You knew that voice. Wiping the vomit from your chin, you looked up to find Sans running down the alley towards you. He was dressed up like he worked for tech support, complete with a polo shirt and nerdy glasses.

You had been right, all those months ago - he looked A LOT better when he didn't drink.

"we don't have long." he said as he got to you "fire department's on it's way, police won't be far behind."

"Right!"

Papyrus took your hand, leading you out the other end of the alley. Sans was close behind, little legs working hard to keep up. You had a lot of questions, but they would have to wait. How Papyrus knew where he was going in this maze of alleyways, you'd never know, but he led you with a confidence you'd never seen in him, even before this awful reset. When you finally emerged into a real street, you were in an almost run down shopping area, as far from that swanky building as possible. Papyrus pulled you into a greasy looking burger joint, not looking at or touching anything until he got to the bathroom door.

"Bathroom's for paying customers only." a brown cat monster pointed out with extreme disinterest, not even looking up from what it was safe to assume were want ads.

In the bathroom were two skeletons you didn't know, but who looked like rougher versions of Sans and Papyrus.

"Took you long enough." the taller one complained, arms crossed tightly across his chest "Why did we have to wait in this disgusting bathroom?"

Before there could be any reply, the bathroom door swung open again, revealing some skeletons you actually recognised.

BB had his hands out in front of him and made a beeline for the sink, muttering 'gross gross gross gross gross' under his breath. And was he wearing a suit? Stretch made sure they hadn't been followed before leaning heavily against the door to prevent it being opened.

"I thought it was supposed to be fog!" BB lamented as he washed his hands with extreme vigour "Why is it so _sticky_?!"

Fog? Wait...

"You let off the fire extinguisher." you realised.

"Yup!" BB confirmed "I am the best at creating a distraction! Kind of ruined my suit, though..."

"it's garbage anyway." the shorter of the unknown skeletons told him, finishing what he was sewing (wait, really?), and throwing it to Sans "alright, darlin', show me yer hands."

You did, your wrists still bound by the cuffs. Taking your hands carefully in one of his (damn, he had big hands...), he used the sewing needle to pick the lock, throwing it and the now open cuffs into the bin beside the sinks.

"one down." he said.

"What about this?" you asked, pointing out the control collar around your neck.

"that baby's gonna take more than a lockpick." he somehow knew on sight "it'll have to wait until we're in the clear. alright, everybody switch."

Switch? Before you could ask, you were shuffled into one of the stalls, the door pulled to behind you.

"Sorry, I'm kind of shy." you heard BB admit.

"But you're perfectly fine getting naked in front of us?" the tall one continued to complain.

"That's different." BB answered as if it was obvious.

After a moment, a bundle of fabric was passed over the top of the stall.

"Put these on." you heard Papyrus request.

You took the clothes. Jeans, a light blue hoodie, and a puffer jacket. They were all too big, but beggars couldn't be choosers. You put them on over your camp uniform in hopes of filling them out a little more.

"need a belt?" the sewing skeleton asked.

"Please." you confirmed.

You heard the shrill scrape of fabric tearing, followed by a whining 'hey!' from BB. A long strip of fabric was passed over the stall door. It would do for now.

"Forgive me for stating the blatantly obvious, but why are we doing this the long way?" the tall one asked.

"we can't go through the void without every gaster in the world knowing about it." Stretch explained to him "if we shortcut, that asshole will know where we are immediately."

The tall one grumbled, but seemed to accept the explanation.

"Are you decent?" Papyrus asked, knocking on the door lightly.

When you confirmed you were, he opened it again. 

He was wearing Stretches orange hoodie and the tall ones leather jacket - a look that weirdly suited him - and the others had all switched clothes as well. The guard uniform Papyrus had been wearing oddly suited the tall one, even if it was a few inches too short here and there, while Stretch was wearing the sewing ones jacket over the tall ones t-shirt. BB's suit was gone completely, shoved into a messenger bag on the floor, and was replaced with what Sans had been wearing, plus a sun visor and bumbag. In his hands was a light blue bandana, which he was about to tie around his own neck, but after a moments thought, gave to you instead. You used it to hide the collar as best as you could. Sans was wearing the sewing one's shirt, plus his own jacket.

"why do you even have a hair tie, red?" Sans asked, contorting himself awkwardly as the sewing one (Red, was it?), adjusted the too-big t-shirt by tying it at the back where it couldn't be seen.

"'cause i ain't got time to fuck around with pins." was his reply.

"I have so many questions." you admitted.

"i understand this is a lot to take in." Sans started, holding up his hands imploringly "but just for now, i'm asking you to trust me. my name is sans, and-"

"I know who you are, Sans." you interrupted "I'm the one who told Papyrus to look for you."

Sans' eye lights went out. Of course, he hadn't been home when you settled that favour with Kei. You hadn't really discussed the resets after that... The poor skel looked ready to cry, but just as he worked up the courage to say something, Red stood and slapped him companionably on the shoulder.

"kiss and make up later, when we ain't runnin' from the law." he suggested.

"right." Sans agreed, regaining his composure "everyone remember their part?"

There was a murmur of agreement.

"okay... let's go."    

Papyrus linked his arm with yours as the group exited the bathroom. The brown cat monster seemed to be the only one working today, but he couldn't give less of a monkeys what you were doing, glancing at you for less than a second before turning back to his magazine. Considering how quiet it was in here, you didn't blame him. You got nervous as you stepped into the street - a group this large would attract attention. It seemed they had thought of that, though, as Red and the tall one went in one direction, and BB and Stretch in another. Sans and Papyrus kept you between them as they sauntered casually down the high street.

"So what is the plan?" you asked quietly.

"the bookshop closed down when abbie got caught." Sans explained "we're headed there. red and edge are going to cause a distraction to keep the authorities attention divided, while bb and stretch find us a vehicle."

"You've thought this through." you complimented.

"wasn't going to take any risks." he admitted "not with what's at stake..."

The sadness in his tone caught you. He must have really missed his brother all this time.

"If I may..." Papyrus began, tone distant and respectful in a way that made his brother wince "While I do ap-p-preciate a good plan, I am curious - why have Red and Edge cause the distraction? B-B-B... *ahem* BB seemed to be doing just f-fine."

"different kind of distraction." sans shrugged "b can't cause quite the amount of chaos red can."

You flinched as you heard sirens. Three police cars roared past you, lights flashing, disappearing down the other end of the road.

"that's probably them."

There weren't all that many people on the streets, even in this area: it must be a weekday. You had lost all concept of the date in that camp. You didn't dare question your good luck any further.

As you got to the train station, Sans pulled 3 rail cards from his pocket and handed them out. You were quietly impressed that even that little detail had been seen to beforehand. Sans took out his phone, fiddling with it a moment.

"security camera, top left." he told Papyrus, who immediately angled you away from it as you approached its range.

"Do I want to know what that app is?" you asked.

"i wasn't always a jobless drunk." Sans admitted "i still have some connections."

The train arrived just as you got to the platform. The timing of it was too perfect - surely that wasn't part of the plan as well?

The commuter train was busy enough that a lot of people were standing. The three of you found a place by the trackside door and hung onto the railings as it took off. 

As the train passed over a bridge that looked over the city, you were hit with a sudden wave of existential calm, rooting you in the moment. Half an hour ago you were in chains, all alone with Felix but for the mercy of Miles. Now you were with your friends, riding a train. Last night you slept on a half collapsed bunk, shivering from the cold and without dinner. Would you fall asleep tonight warm, and with a full stomach? You never imagined how much you would miss riding a train, of all things, but the sway and clack bought a sweet and sour nostalgia that built a pressure in your sinuses. What if you were caught? Would you be sent back to that camp? Would you ever be able to ride a train again, or see the way the sun hit the windows of the city like a strobing light on a mirror?

You felt a hand on your waist, bringing you back to the here and now. It was Papyrus, concerned expression on his face.

"Deep breaths." he told you "Slowly. You'll have a panic attack if you keep this up."

Again, you noted the lack of stutter. Shortly after you noted your body's dangerous lack of air, and took a deep breath. You hadn't noticed you had stopped.

Maybe your incarceration had affected you more deeply than you thought.

As Papyrus led you in a breathing exercise (how a skeleton even knew one, you didn't ask), you noticed Sans eye lights locked on something else. His back was stiff, phalange's clutching the rail tight enough to make it squeak, but to the casual observer he looked perfectly relaxed. You chanced a look around, and immediately saw what had him on high alert.

Undyne.

She was in her civvies, but it was definitely her. It seemed she was having a day out with what you assumed were her sisters, judging by how similar they all looked. Was she a police officer in this timeline too?

She had her eye locked on you. When she spotted you looking back, she put the phone she had been holding in her pocket and wandered over, trying to look casual, and stood right before you, yellow eye boring straight into your soul. From that high vantage point, she could definitely see the control collar, and maybe even the top of your camp uniform.

"This is a passenger announcement." a voice came over the tanoy "There's going to be a slight delay at the next stop while the police go through the train. Nothing to worry about, just an escaped magician. Sorry for the delay, folks."

There was an exasperated groan through the entire train. A cold wave of dread swept over you, almost making you vomit.

It couldn't be over already.

Sans eyes darted too and fro as he weighed up his options - shortcut and risk his father knowing where you are, make a run for it and hope to lose the police, or risk laying low and getting caught? - but the decision was made for him as Undyne turned her back on you, then slumped against the door you were in front of, trapping you between her and it.

Hiding you entirely from view.

"So how you doing?" she said to Papyrus, who could only smile nervously.

The train came to a stop, and the police entered. They ignored all the monsters, and the humans co-operated fully. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, but neither you or Undyne moved an inch. No-one else in the carriage said anything either. After the most stressful five minutes of your life, the train doors closed, and it moved on to the next station. Undyne straightened up to give you a little more room, but didn't move far.

"i don't understand..." Sans admitted shakily, almost a whisper "aren't you a justice soul?"

"You think what's happening to the magicians is just?" she challenged "I don't. I don't see how anyone could."

Papyrus looked at her in awe, Sans as if seeing her in a new light. Undyne put her hands in her pockets, but didn't move from her position until you reached your stop. 

"Don't make me regret my actions." was her parting statement.

The shop - what was left of it, anyway - was a 30 second walk from the station. This area looked even worse done by than during the first timeline. At least, the first you could clearly remember. The front of the pretty little shop had been boarded up with corrugated iron, 'witch' hastily spray-painted across the front, along with a noose. It would break Abbie's heart to see this...

Papyrus pulled back the side of one of the metal sheets, holding it while you and Sans crawled in, before he followed, putting everything back into place. It was pitch black inside, so the boys pulled out their phones and turned on the torches. 

"we shouldn't sit by the front." Sans thought "just in case."

"There's a back room." you told him "This way."

Passing through the shop made you sick. It had been ransacked, books torn up and thrown about, shelves knocked over, posters torn down. Again, everywhere was marked up with spray paint, and 'witch' was the politest of the words you saw.

As you reached the back of the shop, you noted something that gave you pause - the enquiries desk. In the back room, you tried the tap on the sink. No water came out.

"Even i-if it was w-w-working, I w-w-wouldn't drink that." Papyrus advised, standing around uncomfortably rather than sitting on the dusty furniture.

A train passed overhead, causing another shower of plaster dust to fall from the ceiling, making Papyrus whine and brush himself off.

"we need to save power." Sans pointed out "we have to turn the lights off."

"It's a small room." you reasoned, stopping Papyrus's immediate objection "Your eyes might be enough."

You were almost right - they weren't even as bright as a candle, but it was something. Two tiny dots of light told you where in the room Papyrus was as well. 

You suddenly felt very cold. A wave of dizziness passed over you, forcing you to sit down. Sans was with you in an instant, checking your temperature and holding your hand.

"stars, you're thin." he nearly breathed "don't they feed you at that camp?"

"Not if they can help it." Papyrus grumbled, disgusted.

"just take it easy until the others arrive." Sans finished "we'll get drive-through or something on the way to the safe house."

"We need to go back to the camp." you corrected "We need to get Kei."

"kei...?" he wandered a moment "wait, that kid with a crush on paps? why?" 

* * *

There was no great secret behind Papyrus's lack of stutter that day - he had never been so full of confidence, and it was all thanks to Sans. There was a plan, everything was timed, there were train schedules, and a map! A _map!_ The usually habitually anxious skeleton knew exactly what was going to happen, where to go, and when. He memorised every inch of it well in advance, and everything went exactly as it was supposed to. It was almost like Sans knew exactly how to put Papyrus at ease and get the best out of him.

No wonder you had trusted him so much.

The single good thing having such a bad stutter had taught him was when to be quiet and listen. Sat in the absolute darkness of the shops back room, nothing but the light of Sans eyes to give away where anyone was, he heard a lot of very important things. The words 'reset' and 'timeline' got thrown around a lot, by both of you. If Papyrus was understanding correctly, this whole mess was far more complicated than he thought.

He still couldn't believe how easy it had all been, throwing away his whole life up to his point. He'd been ready to die when Roman put his weapon to his head. What was going to happen now? Was he going to be a freedom fighter? A terrorist? Change his name and live the rest of his life in hiding? He didn't have much in this world, but what little he did have he had discarded without a second thought. And why? Because you asked him to? Thinking back, did you even ask? Or did he just take it upon himself to do so?

Listening to you and Sans talk, Papyrus found he didn't care about any of that. He felt a weight lift off his shoulders, one he hadn't realised he'd been carrying. A feeling he'd never experienced in his life washed over him, giving him pause - 'I'm home.' Completely consumed by the thought, he didn't even notice himself pulling a loose brick from the wall, which turned out to be completely fake, and pulling an old, large iron key from within.

Only once the weight of it was in his hand did it occur to him what he had done. How had he known that was there? Timelines... resets... had he been here before?

A notification on Sans' phone blared, a most unwelcome interruption on the intimate air that had developed.

"shit." Sans swore as he checked it.

"What is it?" you asked.

"we need to leave." he insisted urgently " _now_!" 

There was an almighty scraping from the front of the shop as the metal sheets were pulled back.

"This is the police!" a male voice called through "Will anyone inside please identify themselves - do not make us come in and get you!" 

" _fuck_."

You were on your feet before Sans even finished swearing, going over to the old sink and twisting the handles in an odd pattern. Papyrus wasn't sure what you were trying to do until the bookcase he was stood by shuddered, swinging a few inches from the wall with incredible difficulty. You darted over, forcing it around enough to slip through and get behind it.

"Shit, it's fucking locked!" you whispered.

Without even thinking, Papyrus handed you the key he had found. You gave him a searching look for no more than a second before you took it, unlocking the door and using the sound of the police entering the shop to disguise opening it.

"what the fuck?" Sans whispered, creeping over to stand beside you.

"It's your turn to trust me." you told him "Come on."

A determined look crossed the small skeleton's face, and he nodded, allowing you to usher him into the pitch blackness beyond. Papyrus went to follow, grabbing the bookcase to swing it back into place and better hide their tracks. He hoped the police wouldn't see the disturbance in the dust.

The door to the shop opened. Papyrus froze like a deer in the headlights, locking eyes with the officer who had entered. His weapon was drawn, but pointed at the ground.

The whole world stood still as they stared each other down, both waiting for the other to make the first move. There was recognition in the officers eyes, but it would take Papyrus's panicking brain hours to remember where he had seen that face before.

"Miles!" another male voice called from within the shop "You got anything?"

Miles paused before answering, eyes darting to the side as he considered his actions. Finally, he holstered his gun.

"Just the back room." he told the other one "Dead end. No-one's been here in years."

"Shit. Guess that tip off was a bunch of bullshit. Bet it was just some homeless guys who split when they saw it was a witches shop."

"Yeah, I'll bet." Miles agreed as he pulled the door to on the way out, an act so natural the other surely wouldn't even notice it.

Papyrus didn't wait around to hear the rest of the conversation, pulling the bookcase up to the wall. You locked the door and slipped the key in your pocket like an old habit, before putting a finger to your lips in a plea for silence.

The stairs you led them down were old, steep, and so well traversed that a groove had been worn into the middle of them. Papyrus couldn't help but wonder where the light was coming from, since he certainly couldn't see any bulbs. It seemed to be shining out of holes in the walls and ceiling. Some kind of mirror system? He'd love to come back and study it when he had a chance.

If he had a chance.

You finally came to the bottom of the stairs, looking around carefully before you addressed the other two.

"Okay, it should be safe to talk now." you said.

"sam, what the hell is this place?" Sans asked "how did you know it was here?"

"Welcome to the underground." you answered.

Sans eye lights went out for a second at the mention of that word.

"I knew it was here because dealing with it used to be my job." you went on, before sighing deeply "That being said, I can't guarantee any of these tunnels will go to the places they did before. Taking any will be a gamble."

"we can't go back to the shop, the front's being watched." Sans knew, looking at his phone "stretch says the guys from the florist are camped out front just waiting."

"If we speed off, they'll call the police." Papyrus knew "We would have been so careful for nothing."

You sighed through your nose, thinking hard. You closed your eyes and gave one final sigh as you came to a decision. It was strange, the effect it had on you - Papyrus watched as your back straightened, your shoulders squared up, and an icy resolve appeared in your eyes. It wasn't confidence. It was experience.

This was your job.

"There's an abandoned theme park about half an hours drive from here." you told Sans "Easy enough to find on google. Tell them to meet us there."

Sans just nodded before busying himself with his phone. You walked a few feet further along, running your fingers over the bricks in the wall, before you came to a stop.

"Heavens park, here we come." you mumbled.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then Papyrus noticed your hand - the one that was still against the wall - starting to glow. On the back, the symbol of a key burned into life. Judging by the wince in your eyes, 'burning' was the operative word. The bricks before you slid apart as if nothing but wishful thinking was holding them together, parting to reveal another long, dark hallway.

"We need to hold hands." you ordered "And don't let go, no matter what you hear, or see. If you hear voices, don't reply. If you see anything, don't react. Are we clear?"

You made your demands with such authority, the skeletons had no choice but to agree. Sans took your hand, and Papyrus took his. You led, and as soon as the last of them passed through the opening, the bricks fit themselves back into place.

At first, there was nothing but blackness, both in sight and sound. Although you hadn't explicitly stated so, both monsters felt it best to keep silent. The air was cold and close, with a chemical undercurrent that Papyrus couldn't place. The ground crunched like compacted dirt, but there was no sense at all of how big this tunnel was, how high. Would Papyrus hit his head? He didn't know.

The first flash Papyrus saw, he wrote off as his eyes playing tricks on him. The second made him wonder. The third flash, he knew for certain something was there. A bright red light streaked past the group as they walked, far too fast for it to be a light on the wall. It was followed by a green one, then a white one. Papyrus heard laughter, light and high. Voices in the darkness.

"There you are!"

"Come here, come here!"

"I was looking for you!"

Don't react. Don't react.

Papyrus didn't realise he had tightened his grip on Sans's hand until he felt him squeeze back.

You continued forward, stoic and silent.

How long you walked, Papyrus had no idea. If felt like a very long time, but with nothing to see and hear besides the things they had to ignore, he had no way to tell.

It took a while for him to realise they were approaching a light. It was incredibly dim, and the strangest smell accompanied it. Dirt, water, and what Papyrus couldn't only describe as 'old'. Eventually, the group emerged into a much larger tunnel, one that ran perpendicular to the other. The dirt beneath them gave way to a stone bridge, which led over an underground river. Old stone lanterns flared into life as you passed, heading over the bridge.

"Wait, come back!" the voices called from behind.

"Play with me!"

"Stay with me!" 

"Don't go."

At the end of the bridge was a skeleton, and not the monster kind. It sat in a chair, book in it's lap, as if it was just waiting for someone to come along. What was it doing down here? Judging by the disturbing brown stains in the stone around it, it had rotted where it sat. With a pull on your hand, Sans stopped the caravan. He was out of shape, and if it was possible for a skeleton to have a stitch, he absolutely would have. He looked almost imploringly at you, asking if it was okay to stop for a while, but a shake of your head sealed his fate.

Papyrus felt a pang of sympathy for him. His HP was very low, and he had done everything he could to make things as easy as possible for Papyrus... Without letting go of his hand, Papyrus leaned down motioned to pick the smaller skeleton up. To his surprise, Sans allowed it like it was the most natural thing in the world, and was soon securely rested on his hip, arms around his neck. It was a little weird, seeing as he was a grown man, but he had made up for Papyrus's weaknesses, so Papyrus would do the same for him. After a little juggling of fingers and phalanges, Papyrus ended up holding your hand instead, and you led them on.

The next part of the tunnel was covered in bricks, oddly sized and unevenly laid. After a while, Papyrus got the impression they were being followed, but mindful of your previous warning, he steadfastly refused to acknowledge it. There weren't voices this time - he would have much preferred that to the noises that surrounded you now. Chittering, chirping, scratching, growling. Like you were surrounded by predators just waiting to pounce.

Don't react.

Don't react.

Don't react.

... What would happen if he did?

The only thing worse than the noises was their abrupt stop. When you froze as well, dread washed over Papyrus like a wave of frigid fire. Was even than idle thought enough?

You pulled his hand gently, guiding him to touch something. Long, metal, sturdy. Bolted into the wall, but away from it. A ladder? Hand over his, you clenched tightly - 'don't let go' was the message he took from it. You released his hand, and moments later he heard the shuffle of your clothes and the clack of your shoes on the rungs. Sans seemed to understand what was going on, as he shuffled himself onto Papyrus's back to allow him t use both of his hands. After giving you a good head start, the skeleton followed you.

It was a long ass ladder. If Papyrus has muscles, they'd be burning. He admired your resilience, even as he braced himself to catch you every time the rhythm of your ascent altered.

Finally, you stopped. Papyrus could hear aborted clanging, like you were struggling to open something metal. Perhaps it was rusted? Exceptionally carefully, Papyrus climbed the ladder behind you, finding your arm and following it up. A hatch? The wheel was stiff, unkempt, and it took both of you to get it open. Papyrus went to push it up, but you grabbed his wrist, slowing his pace, and peaked out of the gap.

When you were satisfied, you let him push it up completely, and climbed out the hole. 

Papyrus stopped short when he was confronted with another skeleton, but this one was of the monster variety.

Wait, that was him.

A mirror?

Papyrus took a good look around as you closed the hatch door behind him. It looked like a house of mirrors, but you had said the place was a theme park. If he had to guess 'after the apocalypse' would be the theme. They sure liked circles with lines through them, and with an optional number of dots, as they seemed to be everywhere. Everything was painted with glow in the dark pigments, and Papyrus couldn't tell what was a mirror and what wasn't. With a tap on his shoulder, Sans signalled he wanted to be put down. Once on the ground, he opened his mouth to say something, but you covered his mouth with your hand, looking around carefully.

Something was bothering you. What could it be? Weird as the decor was, this place was downright pleasant compared to that tunnel, and for being abandoned it was in surprisingly good shape. 

Wait...

This theme park was supposed to be abandoned.

Why were the lights on?

Papyrus understood immediately what you were looking for, following suit, but there was no sign of anyone around. Only once you were satisfied did you continue through the maze, not making a single wrong turn. How did you know which way to go? You weren't following the painted arrows, or any other marking Papyrus could see.

His thoughts were rudely interrupted when he was turned blue, freezing suddenly. Seconds later, he saw a black and white dog monster appear, squinting through the hall. He couldn't move. He wanted to run, to hide, to do something, but! He couldn't!

After a moment, the dog monster took a radio from his belt and put it to his ear.

"House of mirrors is clear." he said into it "No movement at all. Not even rats tonight."

"Roger that, Doggo." a voice answered from the machine "Come back to the office, we're about to break out the dog treats."

"About damn time." the dog answered before putting his radio away and sauntering off.

As the blue magic released him, both you and Papyrus turned to look at Sans. He was sweating from the exertion of using such powerful magic on two people. How had he known the dog wouldn't see you?

You didn't ask, hurrying them to an exit that let out to the side of the building. After a moment to orient yourself and check for patrolling guards, you all but sprinted for the fence, leading the skeletons through a gap they never would have spotted between some trees, and out onto the main road. 

 

 


	15. An Island Escape

"yer fuckin' nuts, ya know that?"

Crammed in the back of the unmarked van with four men, two of them quite tall, it was understandably difficult to shuffle out of your disguise and smooth out your camp uniform. It didn't help that Stretch was doing the same, having traded clothes with Edge (the tall one, you had learned), so he ended up in Papyrus's guard uniform.

"if it was at least yer kid, i could understand." Red went on from the drivers seat, avoiding his brothers long limbs as he tried to talk you out of your rescue mission "but just some random kid? this is way too dangerous."

"She's not some random kid." you defended "She's the most powerful human magician in the world. Wouldn't you rather have all your weapons available from the start?"

Red grumbled, but couldn't argue with that. Stretch and Sans listened intently as Papyrus described the layout of the camp, the names of the people he might see, and the various security checks he'd have to bluff his way through. Stretch was the obvious choice for this mission - he and Papyrus were almost identical as long as he stood straight, and unlike the other two he shared a name with, he had the ability to shortcut. It wouldn't be getting in that was the hard part, after all, but getting back out with a maximum security prisoner.

"Are you really sure about this?" BB asked, worrying the seams of his gloves "I mean, if you're wrong, then Papy..."

"I'm sure." Papyrus told him, lack of stutter backing him up "Communication here is t-terrible. They d-do it on purpose, so the prisoners feel more isolated. They won't kn-n-now what happened yet."

"Let's not give them the chance to find out." you finished "You ready, Stretch?"

The skeleton nodded seriously before placing a hand on your arm. Seconds later, the inside of the van disappeared, and you found yourself squatting on the ground behind one of the sheds within the camp. You almost fell over from the disorientation it caused you, but fought the feeling back down.

"think 'papyrus', think 'papyrus'." Stretch muttered to himself as you both stood, trying to get himself into character.

He straightened his posture, bounced on the balls of his feet, and opened his eyes to their natural widest. Just like that, the transformation was complete, so uncanny it made you shiver. You put your hands behind your back to mimic still behind cuffed, and Stretch took your arm like he was escorting a prisoner.

You wondered briefly why he was doing this. Sans and Papyrus, sure, but why the others? What did Sans do or say to convince them? However, you put it aside for now and focused on the task at hand.

Walking through the camp, you heard a strange rattling sound, and felt Stretch's hand tighten on your arm. Looking back, you could see clearly exactly how disturbed your escort was by the conditions here. You couldn't blame him, having lived in this squalor and suffering for the better part of two months. Remembering himself, he tried to blink away the shock.

"sorry, i... give me a sec..." he requested, rubbing his eyes.

"You think Papyrus isn't disturbed by this place?" you reasoned, catching his attention "It would probably attract more attention if you weren't."

The skeleton considered your words a moment, but still needed a second to adjust. You took a look around while he did, making sure you weren't being observed by any of the other guards. Like everything in the world, the camp was understaffed, and when the barracks were herded into the muddy and barren outdoor area for some 'exercise', there were only enough guards to cover the front gates of the chicken- and razor-wire enclosure.

That didn't mean you weren't being watched, however.

From a group of older women huddled by the fence, one broke away and ambled carefully over to you.

"Hey kiddo." Abbie greeted "You're back early."

A pang of guilt tore through you, making you sick to your stomach. It was dangerous enough to try and get Kei out, but she was at least in an isolated area. You couldn't risk trying to help Abbie too...

To your surprise, Abbie gave you a sad smile.

"You want to know something funny?" she asked, voice matching her smile.

"Sure." you answered.

"You're so much like my father." she told you "My sister was just like our mother, but you... I had just finished school when he died, so I remember him very clearly. People who didn't know him said he was cold, but that couldn't be further from the truth. He was... 'stoic', I think is a good word. I could read him like a book, though. It always amazed your mother how you could be so much like a man you'd never even met."

Abbie had always been able to read you like a book. Appropriately. She gave you that same sad smile, knowing, and tired.

"I wish I could go with you." she admitted quietly "But we both know I can't. I'm not strong enough any more."

"I'll fix this, Abbie." you promised her "I'll find a way."

Abbie laughed, but the sound was hollow.

"It won't kill you to call me 'auntie' every now and then." she said "... Be careful."

With no further ceremony, she backed away from the wire and pretended not to know you. You understood perfectly, but it still hurt. After everything she had done for you after your mother disappeared...

Stretch's hand lying gently on your back bought you back to the here and now. You took a deep breath and continued down the waterlogged and unforgiving path.

Even without Papyrus's directions, it would have been easy to find where they were keeping Kei - all the other buildings were flimsy, jerry-built, and looked about as inviting as a battered angler fish. The vault they kept Kei in was concrete, windowless, and loomed over the barracks like the monolith from 2001: A Space Odyssey. This is where most of the guards were, armed to the teeth. You felt Stretch nervously drum his fingers on your arm, but he still straightened up. Papyrus had been right - the guards paid him not more than a moments attention before they resumed staring into space under the guise of watching for trouble.

"Well, look who decided to turn up for work." one of the guards at the entrance jibed as he checked the skeletons ID "Only five hours late. Why bother turning up at all?"

"i was in the office all day, getting chewed out by marta." Stretch lied.

The guard looked at him carefully. Stretch's hand twitched again.

"y'know, because... being t-t-too friendly with the k-kids."

The suspicion drained from their face, and they gave a disinterested shrug.

"Yeah, that bitch never stops talking." he agreed "Papa Bear's been on his own all day, so you just know he's going to be in a good mood. Wouldn't want to be you today."

They pressed the button on the wall, and the door reluctantly shuffled open. Stretch chuckled nervously, half mimicking Papyrus, half genuinely bricking it. You wanted to assure him that he was doing just fine, but you couldn't give anything away.

"Good to see _you_ back." one of the guards said to you as they prepared the metal tray of Kei's sparse meal "The last one only lasted a day."

Stretch pretended to unshackle you and mimed putting the handcuffs in the pouch on his belt. The other guards didn't bat a eyelid. You took the tray, trying to stay calm while your heart pounded in your ears. You were so close now.

The guards put on their serious faces and clutched their weapons like they were expecting the xenomorph to jump out the second the vault door opened, which considering it's inhabitant wasn't completely impossible.

"Why aren't you armed?"

Your stomach bottomed out. Stretch hadn't signed out any weapons at the desk, and you'd been too focused on acting normal to remind him. A lover of routine like Papyrus never would have forgotten that. Stretch's brain clearly screeched to a halt as it tried to come up with something, but considering the heavy weaponry staring him in the face, you could hardly blame him. A sound like a high pitched whine left his throat, but no actual words.

"It's what he gets for pissing off Marta." you excused "He rear-ended her on the way in, so now he has to do guard duty with no weapons."

The silence that followed was agonising. It might have been nothing but seconds long, but damn if those weren't the longest seconds of your life. If they didn't buy it, not only would you get shot, but there was every chance the boys waiting in the van would try to come and find you and get themselves killed as well.

The longest breath you'd ever held was let out as the guards burst out laughing.

"Damn, Papyrus, you're the unluckiest son of a bitch in the world!" one of them guffawed, slapping Stretch heartily on the shoulder "I don't know how you fucking do it!"

"ha ha..." Stretch played along, squirming away from their touch.

"Have fun with Papa Bear." the other guard teased "I'm pretty sure your gun was the only thing stopping him from mauling you, y'know."

The butt of a rifle to the back of the guards head stopped any further joking, and everyone in the hallway straightened like their headmaster had just caught them smoking behind the bike sheds. You swore you heard Roman growl as he stalked out of the vault, casting those pitiless black eyes around to see who dared disturb him. Stretch went as stiff as a board, and you could just imagine him wishing he'd been caught instead.

"Get inside." he growled at you, and you wasted no time doing as you were told.

No-one stopped Roman stepping forward, grabbing Stretch by the back of the neck, and dragging him into the vault after you. Judging by how fast the vault door was slammed and locked behind him, they were just glad it wasn't them feeling his wrath. The poor skeleton was genuinely terrified as Roman pinned him to the concrete wall and loomed over him in the same manner as his namesake.

"Who the fuck are you?" he asked.

"p-p-p-p-p-" Stretch stammered uselessly, physically shrinking under his glare.

"He's your ticket out." you told Roman sternly "Calm the fuck down."

You heard a snort from the small bound figure in the chair, and looked at her just in time to see her tamper down her laugh. Roman did indeed calm down, if only because he couldn't believe his ears.

"Right now?" he asked.

"Right now." you confirmed "If you'd be kind enough to unlock the bloody chains, today has been quite long enough in my opinion."

Kei started laughing again, the sound muffled by the gag. The noise seemed to startle her father out of his stupor, and he rushed to untie her. Putting the tray down on the floor, you checked on Stretch, who had practically melted into an overwhelmed puddle. His eyes were locked on Roman, which was a wise decision in the presence of a predator.

"h-how did you know i wasn't papyrus?" he asked "i didn't even say anything."

"He's taller, but you have wider shoulders." was his explanation.

You had never even noticed, nor would it occur to you to do so. They had literally been sat next to each other in the van, and you hadn't noticed that.

A startled yell on the other side of the vault stopped any further conversation. When you heard the locks start to unwind in the heavy metal door, you knew it was time to leave. Luckily Stretch seemed to be of the exact same opinion, jumping to his feet and grabbing your hand. Roman hauled Kei from her metal throne, holding her securely as Stretch laid a hand on his arm. 

One disorienting blink later, you were stood outside of the van. The back doors immediately flew open, BB hurling himself out and into his brother.

"We need to leave now!" you all but ordered, pushing them both back into the van.

* * *

For all the planning, for all the timings and preparations, the skeletons had overlooked one important thing.    

Vans were incredibly fucking uncomfortable. There being another large man crammed into the space didn't help either, even if he was keeping the diminutive Kei in his lap. Red had traded places with Papyrus, and was currently working on the absurd lock keeping the kids full-covering hand shackles on. There had been some argument about getting your collar off first, but Roman had just given the skeleton a blank glare, took the big knife from his boot, and stabbed the lock.

Which considering it was attached to your neck at the time, probably shaved years off your life. Sans had to rub your back and coo reassurances until you could breathe again, but to his credit it did work. For the first time in months, you could feel the air on your red raw skin, and move your head freely on your shoulders. A part of you wanted to challenge Roman to do that to Kei too, but you hadn't completely lost your senses.

"aaaaand, got it." Red said finally, his success punctuated by a few quiet clicks.

"Be careful." Roman growled at him, arms tightening around the kid.

Kei herself had been oddly quiet. Those big blue eyes observed everyone silently, her face as unreadable as a doll. She continued to have no reaction when Red pried one of the chunky cuffs apart with the appropriate amount of care for her fathers taste. It wasn't until Red sucked in a breath and Roman covered Kei's eyes that you realised something was wrong. 

"what the fuck did they do to ya, kid?" Red asked quietly.

"They broke my hands." she replied matter-of-factly "They didn't know how my magic worked, so they hedged their bets."

You didn't want to see her hands - if the sight of her completely burned skin and unevenly removed legs weren't bad enough to make get a reaction out of Red, then you would be happy never seeing her hands. Stretch could see them from where he was, and his only reaction was to look away and make sure his brother did the same.

You were on the road for a very long time. The guys swapped drivers a few times, but the van didn't stop longer than it took to pull over at the drive-through window. Everyone ran out of things to talk about after a while, and a weary, uncertain silence fell over you. The sun set, and despite how tired you were, you couldn't sleep. Where were you going? When would you get there?

What was going to happen now?

The sun had risen by the time you finally came to a stop. Edge and Red got out of the van, and with a lurch the vehicle began to float. Curious as to what was happening, you looked out the front window to find the van had been parked on a sturdy looking raft, which was being floated over a large, still lake with the use of blue magic, towards an island in the centre.

Despite not even having muscles, the skeletons were stiff and clumsy as they climbed out of the vehicle, stretching away the mounting claustrophobia. The cold wind hit you like a life saving spell, throwing off the sleep and hard to pin down dread. After the greys and browns of the camp and the overdone design of Felix's tower, the autumnal foliage and natural chaos of the mountains around you were a very welcome shock, like being freed from a coffin into a bright sunny day.

"I'm so glad to be home." Edge sighed deeply, walking up to the giant house that sat in the middle of the island.

"You live here?" BB asked, clearly surprised "Like, permanently?"

" _mi casa es tu casa_ and all that." Red agreed, waving you all forward "lemme get ya guys set up - i think we could all use some sleep."

"amen." Stretch agreed.

This place was huge. Was this Sans's definition of a safehouse? Sure, there was clearly nothing else around for miles, but you could probably see this thing from space...

Just as Edge got to the door, it opened on its own. Another skeleton appeared, looking just as surprised to see the group as they were to see him. Your stomach bottomed out - it was Gaster. Your heart stopped, your brain freezing even as you prepared yourself for another reset.

You had been so close!

"Do I even want to know what you two have been doing?"

You felt your heart start up again at his casual, someone amused tone. He wasn't even talking to Sans and Papyrus.

"yer better off not knowing, bro." Red told him "thought ya'd be gone for a few days?"

"I'm leaving shortly." 

Wait, was this not Gaster? They were almost identical... just like Sans and BB were almost identical, and Stretch and Papyrus. DUH. You could have laughed, had you not almost have had a heart attack.

"i'm glad yer still here, actually." Red went "there's somethin' we could use yer help with, 'doc'."

"Oh?" his not-Gaster brother replied, curious.

Red signalled Roman over with a nod of his head. He still had Kei in his arms, since there was no way she could walk. A gently as possible, Red took her hands and showed them to his brother. Was he a doctor? He had called him 'doc', after all. The brother leaned down and inspected them carefully, making thoughtful 'hmm'-ing noises.

"Looks to me like they were purposely set to heal wrong." he pondered, looking to the humans for confirmation, but between Romans pitiless black scowl and Kei's doll-like mask, he got nothing "The only choice is to break and re-set them. You'll never play piano, but it'll be better than this." 

"I was never going to paint a masterpiece." Kei assured.

"That's the spirit." the new skeleton smiled, turning to Edge "You come too, I'll need your healing power. Follow me to my office."

The newcomer sauntered off on his long legs, not even looking back. Both Edge and Roman hesitated. Even if it was for her benefit, what father would be okay with letting his child's hands be broken? In front of him, no less? And to a skeleton, breaking a bone must be an acute type of body horror... However, Roman did eventually move to follow, Edge behind.

* * *

You weren't sure how long you slept. There had been zero ceremony, zero 'settling in', before everyone excused themselves to get some rest. You hadn't even changed out of your clothes, just kicked your shoes off and collapsed onto the mattress. The musty smell of a rarely used guest room surrounded you on all sides, but it was a damn sight better than the smell of damp and rust at the camp. You knew Sans had appeared before he even said anything, stood awkwardly at the side of you bed.

"i..." he started, looking anywhere but at you "i know you said you remembered me, but... if you want me to sleep somewhere else-"

"Sans." you interrupted "Shut up and get on the bed. I'm too tired for this."

The skeleton didn't really have a reaction - not a smile, not a frown, not a single word. Perhaps he was just as tired as you, as he climbed onto the bed, snuggled up beside you, and was immediately asleep. It felt a little weird that Papyrus wasn't on his blow-up mattress beside the bed, but the thought soon left your head as you slipped into a dreamless slumber.

The orange light bathing the room was your only indication as to what the time was when you awoke. The house was still quiet, pensive, and making any kind of loud noise felt like sacrilege. You would have been happy to stay in bed if not for the call of nature, so reluctantly peeled Sans's arms from you and went to find a bathroom. You found one easily enough at the end of the hallway, but was surprised to find it already inhabited.

As accustomed as you had become to the sight of monsters, some things would always make you do a double take - several extra limbs, spindly and disjointed like the legs of a spider, emerging from the back of a legless human girl was one of them. There seemed to be six of them, and on their ends were hands, none of which had the right number of fingers: two were braced on the floor, two on the ceiling, and two on the sink before her, keeping her steady as she checked her reflection over in the mirror, real hands cradled close to her chest to stop the bandages getting wet.

"Be honest with me." you said when she finally noticed you by the door "Are you really human?"

The girl looked haunted a second, and you got the distinct impression you weren't the first to ask.

"Only one person ever knew for sure." she admitted "And she's dead."

"Wouldn't you father know?" you pried "Didn't he and your mother ever talk about it?"

"They never even met." Kei confirmed.

You had assumed Roman must be Kei's step-father, if only because you couldn't imagine him filling out forms at an adoption agency or being accepted by a foster care program, so hearing this surprised you.

"You've led an interesting life." you concluded.

"We live in interesting times." she agreed "As for your question... All the human and monster pairings through history have resulted in monsters, not hybrids, so if I'm not fully human... well, I wouldn't be part monster. I wouldn't mind it, but it's not possible, you know?"

"It must be very confusing." you sympathised "But hey, at least you're able to get around."

"Not well."

"We can practice."

"Did you need the bathroom?"

"If you don't mind."

The difficulty of moving these new limbs became apparent quickly, as Kei jerkily knocked into things and lost her balance as she made her unsteady way to the door. Just as she was about to leave, she paused, seeming unsure for a moment as she looked back at you.

"Can I ask you something?" she said "Honestly?"

"Of course." you assured.

"That other timeline." she went on "What was my hair like?"

Just like that, any thought of her inhumanity disappeared. It would never cease to amaze you how she did that, making you forget about her massive reserves of power with a display of her obvious human frailty.

"About so long." you told her, putting your hand on her neck to illustrate "And just a little bit curly."

"That sounds nice." she smiled "Was I... burned?"

"Not as badly."

"Was I pretty?"

She quickly changed her mind, shaking the question away.

"Never mind-" she started.

"You were very cute." you told her anyway "You didn't look even close to your age, though."

Kei said nothing for a moment, looking at you thoughtfully.

"Do you think it's silly of me?" she asked eventually "Of all the things to worry about, that I'm thinking about my hair and my looks... there are a lot bigger things to be thinking about right now..."

"No." you replied honestly "Those little things don't go away just because there are big things around. It's not vain to wonder what you would look like without the burns."

That got a smile out of her. She thanked you quickly, shutting the door behind her to give you some privacy.

* * *

One by one, people started waking up and sauntering downstairs. A palpable sense of 'what now?' hung in the air, and even the houses inhabitants seemed at a loss. Red - who it turned out was a tailor by trade - quickly made you up some simple clothes to get you out of that camp uniform. Edge took it on himself to keep BB and Papyrus entertained, while Sans and Stretch slouched around the living room like sleepy grandfathers after a large meal. Roman set himself up in the kitchen, found the largest pot he could, and started making some kind of stew. The last time you had seen Kei she was in the library, also decked out in Red's quick creations, half buried under all the books she had pulled out to read.

When the stew was ready, you all ate in relative silence. It was already late, but every last molecule in your body was as agitated as it was tired - it would probably take you all a couple of days to get over the strain of your escape. Once everyone had finished, bowls stacked haphazardly on the coffee table of the living room, no-one made any attempt to move. There was a certain kind of tension in the air, the afore mentioned 'what now?' crossed with the expectation of waiting for something to start.

"If no-one else is going to say it, I will." Edge began "Comic, what the hell is this all about?"

"We've been very patient!" BB agreed "We went along with your plans, we even broke laws! A little explanation isn't too much to ask, is it?"

...

...

What.

Sans hadn't even...

They had done all that without...

WHAT?!

"Seriously?" was all that left your mouth.

"i get doin' what it takes to save yer mate." Red agreed "but there's more goin' on here, ain't there?"

"there is." Sans confirmed "and thank you all for having my back this far."

Without any kind of explanation.

Were all monsters nuts or just the ones you knew?!

Sans ran his hand over his skull, eyes closed. He radiated exhaustion.

"how many times have we had to have this conversation?" he asked quietly.

"this _exact_ conversation?" Stretch clarified.

"any iteration."

"well, this is our first time all together like this." the taller skel told him "but individually? fuck knows."

"i don't know if i can go through this again..." Sans finished, managing to look far, far older than he had any right to.

"Then I'll start." you offered "And you an pick it up whenever."

He gave you a grateful smile, strained and tired though it was.

"Here's what I remember." you began, addressing the group "I grew up in a world without monsters. Anywhere. I don't just mean that I was from the south. Monsters were nothing but a myth, stories to frighten children with. At least, I thought so."

"'Frighten'?" BB picked up "But monsters aren't scary at all!"

"You aren't." you agreed "But the imaginary ones could be anything, right?"

BB considered your words before nodding, allowing you to continue.

"There was this old story, about the burning mountain, that said all the monsters were sealed underground, somewhere called Ebbott. I used to think it was a metaphor, but... then one day I woke up and everything was different. There were monsters, walking around like nothing had happened. And nothing _had_ happened to them. History was changed, over and over, to make sure of it."

"sam always remembers the first timeline." Sans interjected "but this is the first time remembering the last one."

"That's thanks to you." you said, turning to Kei, who was once again sat in her fathers lap "You owed me a favour in the last timeline, and made it so I'd be able to remember."

Kei nodded. She was wearing her serious business face as she listened.

"there have been so many resets." Sans went on " _so many_... i can't even remember them all. i can't remember when or how they started, or who was involved. any more than ten resets back, shit starts getting real fuzzy. all that drinking i did in the last timeline didn't help."

"D-do you have any p-p-p-proof of this?" Papyrus asked "Not that I d-d-don't believe you..."

"look at me." Stretch told him, which he did "who am i?"

"You... you're..."

Despite his lack of stutter, the words seemed to be difficult for Papyrus to get out, like he was physically impossible of processing them.

"i'm you." Stretch finished for him "i'm not _like_ you. i'm not _related_ to you. i _am_ you."

"How is this possible?" Edge asked, leaning forward in his chair, studying Stretch very closely himself.

"every new reset has the chance to bring in an alternate reality of monsters." Sans explained "it's like... like... _fuck_... okay, one universe is a sphere-"

"It's like pastry." Kei interrupted, causing everyone in the room to look at her.

"... Pastry." Edge repeated.

"Like a croissant." she elaborated "Every layer of pastry in the croissant is it's own separate reality, all touching and overlapping in the infinite croissant of the multiverse. There could be areas with no pastry at all, or layers of pastry so close they can't be separated."

Well, you weren't sure about the science, but the analogy was one anybody could understand. Edge certainly seemed to, and judging by the way Papyrus and BB were leaning forward, she had their attention too.

"As long as everything goes the way it's supposed to, the croissant stays intact." she went on, clasping her hands in demonstration "The fundamental laws of any universe - entropy, time moving forward - they need to be obeyed. When a reset occurs, it's trying to take one layer out of the pastry and put it somewhere else. You can't do that without causing harm to the layers around it."

"and every time it's moved, there's more damage." Sans picked up "but the universe tries to correct itself-"

"The layers stick together." Kei agreed.

"But why only monsters?" BB asked "Why aren't there as many different versions of any given human wandering around as there are monsters?"

"I've been thinking about that." she answered "It's not provable, but I think it's related to a monsters lack of physical mass. Your entire species is made of magic, and magic is energy. Energy can't be created or destroyed, only-"

"Only changed from one form to another." Edge finished "So as monsters, we were able to become pure energy and slide into this reality while the universe attempted to correct itself?"  

"Something like that, yes." Kei nodded "It's not a perfect theory - it doesn't explain how you become yourselves again rather than completely new people - but it's something."

"It also doesn't explain how some humans are able to remember the resets." you pointed out "Magic is no immunity, or you'd remember them too."

"Like I said, it's not provable - not unless you can find me someone willing to be taken apart on a molecular level so I can investigate it."

"Then what happens to the humans?" BB interjected "If they don't pass into the new reality, what happens to them?"

No-one answered, and not because they couldn't guess. The idea of so much death was just too vast for any mortal brain to comprehend. 

"Oh..." the smallest skeleton seemed to realise the answer all the same, physically shrinking in his chair.

"What's causing the resets?" Papyrus asked, voice serious and thoughtful.

"Gaster." you knew "I don't know how he's doing it, but I know it's him."

"it wasn't always." Sans said "but it was so damn long ago, i can't remember."

"the kid."

Everyone turned at the sound of Red's growl. His eyes were on the ground, chin rested on his fist as he thought.

"Sans, you knew about this?!" Edge cried, betrayal rife in his voice "Why didn't you tell me?!"

"i did tell ya, boss. i told ya so many times... every time the kid reset, ya forgot. back when we were trapped in the underground."

BB gasped, Edge flinched, and Stretch tensed. Papyrus just looked confused.

"ours was the last universe to get folded into this one." he went on "ya don't remember it, and i'm happy for that, but i do. less than six months ago, all of monster kind was trapped under mount ebbott. you, me, wing... we'd never seen the sun. it was hell on earth."

Red looked you right in the eye, something dark and primal lingering behind those twinkling red lights.

"yer disorientation is understandable." he finished.

"Who was this 'kid'?" Edge demanded, throwing a meaningful look at Kei.

She just held up her bandaged hands in a 'not me' fashion.

"the kids name was frisk." Red confirmed "and before the kid was the flower."

"So the power can be passed." BB realised.

"And now Gaster has it." you finished "But what's he trying to do? Everything was fine in the last timeline, why did he overwrite it with this awful existence?"

"i did a lot of research when we first found ourselves here." Stretch confessed "i think he was trying to make things better for monsters. at first, anyway. i'm not sure anymore. maybe it's for personal reasons?"

"He's fucking over the entire universe for _personal reasons_?!" Edge cried in disbelief.

"sounds like something he would do." Sans confirmed bitterly.

"If the power can be passed, then it can be taken." Kei reasoned "We need to take it out of his hands."

"not sure i'm comfortable with you having it, either." Sans admitted.

"Don't want it." she agreed "Let it die, dissipate out into the universe or something. As long as Gaster doesn't have it, I'm happy."

"amen." Stretch agreed, running a hand over his skull.

"This is messed up..." Edge grimaced "Comic, why did you get us involved in this?! I would have been perfectly happy never knowing any of this!"

"we're already involved, bro." Red told him "think about it - it was a fluke of luck that ours was the next universe folded into this one. the universe is constantly trying to correct itself, to shed the excess-"

"Plain English, will you?" his brother requested.

"one reset bought us into this reality." he rephrased "another one could take us straight back out. whether that's back to the underground, or to nothingness... i don't want to take that risk. we can't let that son of a bitch keep this power." 

"Then it's decided." Roman finished with a slap to his knee "We find Gaster and we kill him."

"it won't be as easy as that." Sans argued "if he can reset at will, we won't even be able to get close to him. hell, he just _saw_ sam in the last timeline and reset!"

"Then we need to tread carefully." Kei agreed "Find out how's he's doing it first so we can stop him."

"And how do you suggest we do that?" Edge all but shrieked "Does anyone here have any solid plan?!"

No-one answered. 

After another few minutes, they all went back to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! Can you believe it's already February?!


	16. The Pain of Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a little while coming out, but I needed a fluff break, so I've been shamelessly drowning in [popatochisps](https://archiveofourown.org/users/popatochisp/pseuds/popatochisp) back catalogue. Their stuff is so soft and nice, like a soft bed with fresh sheets. A highly recommended author for all your fluff needs.

As nice as it was on the island, you couldn't imagine living here on a permanent basis. The homeowners had an entire library of DVD's and books, but only because a reliable tv signal couldn't transmit this far into the mountains. No-one was going to lay cable out here so the internet was incredibly patchy as well. No wonder this house was no nice - they had nothing else to do with their time.

You'd lived in the city for a long time, and the dead silence of the countryside made you nervous. You were too far away from the shore to hear birds chirping, and since the lake had no tide you couldn't even listen to the waves. Every now and then there would be some loud, guttural noise from way off in the forest, but if anything it only made you more paranoid, certain you didn't want to meet whatever had made it.

Sat on the back porch of the house, you and Roman had a cup of tea while you watched Kei and Edge. He held two of her new hands, walking backwards very slowly. Every now and then he would change direction, sometimes slowly, sometimes not. Kei followed, using her other four hands to shuffle after him. Her real ones, still broken, she kept to her chest. Her face was a picture of concentration, as she had nothing to hold onto to steady herself except for the skeleton. Roman pretended to be nonchalant about the whole thing, but the way he watched them both like a hawk gave him away. He needn't have been so worried, though - she had improved a lot in the past week.

"I think that's enough for now." Edge said finally "After lunch we'll try going faster, alright?"

"Yes, thanks." Kei agreed "You're a real lifesaver, you know?"

"Someone around here has to take some responsibility." he grumbled, tone bitter as he stalked back to the house.

In doing so, he left Kei standing on her own with no support. This was entirely on purpose, of course, to see how steady she was moving around unsupported. It took her a moment to get oriented before taking a few careful steps. One loose clump of dirt, however, was all it took for her to go careening to the ground, landing in a pile of limbs and swearing. Roman flinched so hard, torn between helping and letting her do it herself, that his own skeleton nearly leapt out of his body - he had to turn his back on her and grip the table to stop himself.

Kei didn't ask for help. She swore for a solid minute, tapped her many fingers on the ground as she waited for the frustration to subside, then set about picking herself back up again. Muddy, embarrassed, but otherwise fine, she eventually made her way to the porch, much steadier as she braced herself against the walls and railings.

"I wonder what's for lunch." she said as she took a seat beside the railing "Edge isn't a particularly good cook, is he?"

"The two of you seem to be getting along pretty well." you noted.

"He's kinda like a Doberman." she shrugged "Looks scary, but they still play fetch and like their bellies scratched."

A wicked grin crossed Kei's face as she picked up a cup of tea, looking back out over the water.

"I wonder if Edge would like his belly scratched..." she said quietly.

Roman was immediately on his feet.

"Excuse me, I'm going to clean my ears out with bleach." he announced as he walked into the house.

"You have to let me grow up at some point!" Kei yelled after him.

"No I don't!" he replied.

Kei just laughed. You couldn't help but join in.

"Do you compare everyone to dogs?" you asked her, recalling her saying something very similar about Papyrus before.

"Not everyone..." she said, not able to look at you.

"What kind is BB?"

"A Pomeranian, of course. He's perky, loud, and doesn't realise how small he really is."

"Of course!" you laughed "What about Sans?"

"British Bulldog. Sweet, lazy, good with kids." 

"Your dad?"

"A pitbull."

"Because he's dangerous?" you said before you could stop yourself.

"No." Kei defended "Because he _could_ be dangerous. He could also be a big soft puppy, it all depends on the circumstances."

'Soft' and 'puppy' were not words you would associate with Roman, but you supposed she knew him better.

"What about me?" you asked her "What kind of dog would I be?"

"Some kind of mid-sized hound." she answered with a shrug.

"Nothing in particular?" you pouted, feeling a little disappointed.

"Oh, you're definitely a certain breed." Kei elaborated "But you're one of those breeds the average observer can't pick out. You know what you are, and an expert would know, but jonny on the street has no idea. Are you a Labrador or a Retriever? A Malamute or a Husky? Whippet or Greyhound? Nobody knows!"

You couldn't help but laugh at her dramatic tone. At least being a confusing breed was better than being an unknown one. Didn't you feel all mysterious!

"What about..." you asked, wracking your brain for someone who wasn't as obvious "Oh, what about Red and Edge's brother? That guy who fixed your hands? What kind of dog would he be?"

"He's not a dog at all." Kei knew immediately, whole demeanour changing as she didn't hide the look of disgust on her face "Dogs are inherently good."

"Did something happen?" you asked, immediately worried.

The girl squirmed uncomfortably, fingers tapping the teacup in her hands.

"It's not that he did anything." she elaborated "I don't think my dad even noticed..."

"But?" you encouraged.

Remembering where she was, Kei looked around a moment, most likely making sure your topic of conversations brothers weren't in earshot.

"He just... enjoyed breaking my hands a little too much." she explained "Like, if my dad and his brother hadn't been there, he might have unzipped his trousers... _that_ much."

Your entire body cringed. When someone was obviously a horny creep that behaviour was easy to deal with, but when they went to the effort to appear respectable...

"I'm glad he didn't stick around." you agreed quietly, trusting her judgement.

An uncomfortable silence fell. You really ruined the game bringing that guy up...

"Papyrus is a golden retriever." Kei said suddenly, refusing to let the playful mood be ruined.

"I know, right?!"

* * *

Papyrus had never been this idle in his life. Two weeks of doing next to nothing was like torture for the poor skel. Sure, he helped out around the house, but there was only so much cooking and cleaning to be done. He could watch movies and play games with the others, but the more time he spent with them, the larger the chasm between them felt.

Everyone here was part of a pair. Every pair was connected to another pair. Stretch and BB were brothers, Red and Edge were brothers, Edge and BB were friends, Red and Stretch were drinking buddies. Roman had his daughter, and she was friends (he assumed) with you, and you were with Sans, and Sans was friends with Red, Stretch, Edge and BB.

And then there was Papyrus.

Alone.

He tried to think of himself as connected to Roman and Kei, but they were family, and tacking himself onto that felt wrong. He tried to think of himself as connected to you, but besides helping you escape, he barely knew you! He tried to connect himself to the other skeletons, by race alone if need be, but...! But they all knew each other. They had history. He didn't.

Papyrus finished pretending to do the crossword and stood up from the dining table. In the kitchen, BB and Edge were doing the dishes. One washing, one drying and putting away. No need for anyone else. Stretch and Red were on the back porch getting high (judging by the smell), and you and Sans were in the library, having one of your serious, private discussions.

There was no place for him anywhere.

Dejected, he decided he may was well go up to his room.

A scrabbling sound caught his attention as he got to the top. Roman passed him, Kei slung over his shoulder. For some reason, her six hands were bound together at the wrists, but that didn't stop them grabbing any purchase they could find.

"No no no no no no no!" the girl yelled at him, the stumps of her legs kicking furiously "Put me down, put me down!"

Roman looked completely nonchalant about the whole thing, only confusing Papyrus further.

"Everything okay?" he dared ask.

"No!" Kei screeched "I'm going to die!"

"It's bath time." Roman told him.

"Um... okay?"

"This one has hydrophobia." he went on, free hand pointing to Kei "If I leave it to her, she'll never bathe."

"Why don't you just use the shower?" Papyrus suggested.

"We are." Roman sighed "Last time she even saw a bath full of water... well, it didn't end well is all I'll say."

"There's evil in water that never sleeps!" Kei declared, struggling more "Ancient bacteria! Things that have been rotting for centuries! Microscopic flesh eating fish!!"

"No such thing." Roman told her, and judging by his tone this was a conversation they had a lot.

"Good luck..." was all Papyrus could think to say, even as Kei continued to struggle and flail all the way to the bathroom.

It wasn't until he was in his room that he remembered Kei was almost 18. Wasn't that a little weird? Although thinking about it, it might have been difficult for her to bathe herself with her hands broken.

Despite how scary he was, Roman really was a devoted father. He clearly prized Kei above everything, even going so far as to get himself hired at that godforsaken camp just to keep an eye on her. Papyrus couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have such close family...

The chasm of loneliness within him only got deeper.

With a sigh, he lay down on his bed and stared at the wall. If he was quiet enough, it would be like he didn't exist. If he was lucky, maybe he wouldn't.

* * *

Sans couldn't believe there hadn't been another reset yet. Every morning for the last three weeks he woke up expecting everything to be different again, to have to start from zero _again_ , but it just... wasn't. What was Gaster playing at? Why was he waiting? He had reset the second he saw you last time, and he had to know by now-!

"You're doing it again."

Your quiet voice, chiding but not harsh, broke Sans out of his spiralling thoughts. Your eyes hadn't left your book.

"how could you even tell?" he grumbled, sat opposite you at the library table.

"Your face is very animated." you told him.

" _your_ face is very animated." he replied like the mature adult he was, flicking through some novel he had no interest in actually reading "and no i wasn't."

"You absolutely were." you argued.

"no i wasn't." he responded immediately "and unless you've suddenly developed psychic powers, you can't prove it."

That got you to look up, wry smile on your face.

"Alright," you conceded "If you weren't thinking about the resets, then what did cause you to make that face?"

Ah.

You had him there.

"dinner." he lied "it's bb's turn to cook, remember?"

"Uh-huh." you replied in a tone that displayed you didn't totally believe him.

"i really was."

"Sure. I've seen you eat week old curry out of the bin when you were drunk before, but BB's cooking has you grimacing."

When had you...?

Oh yeah. You remembered.

Sans wasn't used to that yet. You remembered him. Remembered the reset. If Kei's magic held, you'd remember him for all of them from now on. Sans wouldn't have to wait around any more, not knowing if you were going to stumble into his life, or he into yours, if you'd be friend or foe, how far your relationship might go... You would be you, constantly, and whatever fuck-ups be committed couldn't be erased by the cloche of forgetting that came with every reset.

Stars, why did your first permanent memory of him have to be when he was a fucking drunk? Why couldn't it have been a timeline where he was charming, or at least even likeable?

And yet you were still giving him a chance. You still sought him out. Maybe a small part of you did remember that...

The door to the library opened. For a second, Sans thought it was Stretch who had walked in, from the slouch of his shoulders and unwashed clothes, and it was an extremely unpleasant realisation that it wasn't.

"Papyrus?" you asked in concern when you saw him, even going so far as to put your book down.

"Oh." he said upon seeing you "Sorry... d-didn't mean to interrupt... just... gonna g-get a b-book... or something..."

You were on your feet immediately, pulling Papyrus into the room and shutting the door behind him. Sans realised with a start that he couldn't clearly remember when the last time he saw him was...

"Papyrus, what's wrong?" you asked, demanding but not uncaring "You look awful, did something happen?"

"No." he answered with a brave smile, even as bright orange magic started to well in his eyes "Everything's f-fine..."

Before he even finished speaking, he was crying. The sight had the ever lazy Sans on his feet as well, not knowing what to do as you wrapped your arms around his brother. He had to squat down quite a bit to put his head on your shoulder, but he did anyway, crying into the soft fabric of your top.

"I-I-I-'m just s-s-s-so alone!" he sobbed "I d-d-don't belong a-anywhere, I-!"

Like a lightning bolt, realisation crossed your face, and your eyes immediately snapped to Sans. He knew that look.

You were _furious_...

Your silent accusation rung out loud and clear in the air - _You didn't tell him._

A cold sweat washed over him. He hadn't.

Schooling your expression, you gently pulled Papyrus away from you, wiping his tears with your thumb as you smiled at him.

"Papyrus, we are absolutely going to deal with this." you said softly "And we will fix it. I just need to talk to Sans about something first, okay?"

The skeleton was understandably confused, but nodded, sitting himself in one of the plush chairs as pulled himself together. Before Sans could open his mouth to defend himself, you had grabbed him by the collar and hauled him out the door, pulling it just to.

" _What the fuck_?!" you hissed at him, quiet enough not to be overheard "You didn't _tell him_?!"

"hey, in my defence, i had other things on my mind at the time!" he defended, holding up his hands "rescuing you, for example!"

"That was three weeks ago." you pointed out harshly "What's your excuse now?"

What hurt most wasn't your tone, but the fact that you were right. He ran his hands over his skull as it sunk in exactly how badly he had let his little bro down. He figured that now they were together again, everything would just be alright, like it had always been before...

"because i'm a _fuck up_." he replied emphatically "i thought you knew that!"

You just crossed your arms, looking at him sternly. This was Sans mess, and he was going to have to fix it.

"i'll talk to him. i will." he promised "it's just... it's not easy, okay? it's not exactly something that just comes up in conversation, you know?"

To his surprise, your face softened as you considered his words. You even nodded.

"Yeah... yeah, I understand." you said.

Before turning on your heel, opening the library door, and stating very loudly:

"Papyrus, Sans is your brother."

"HE'S WHAT?!?!?!?!"

Sans jaw dropped so fast it hurt. 

"There you go, champ." you told him, shooting him the finger guns "It came up. You're welcome."

" _i hate you_." he seethed, quietly impressed that you were still able to surprise him after so many resets.

How was he always forgetting what a sassy bitch you could be? You just grinned and waved, grabbing a book from the closest shelf and disappearing into the recesses of the house.

* * *

Sans gently closed the door, wracking his brain to think of what to say. He'd really screwed the pooch on this one. What was going on in that empty skull of his?

Papyrus sat on his bed, the conversation having been moved to his room, and stared at Sans apprehensively. He was confused. He was _hurt_.

Sitting beside him on the mattress, it took Sans a few aborted tries to get anything out. Where to even start?

"Why didn't you tell me?" Papyrus asked quietly, taking the lead.

"'cause i forgot you didn't know." Sans answered honestly "'cause i'm a fuck up and a terrible brother. i'm sorry, paps, really - you have no idea."

"A-are you absolutely s-sure?" he went on, as if hardly believing it "I mean, I g-grew up in an orphanage."

"100%." Sans told him "we've always been brothers... this is the first reset that we've ever been apart... i guess i took for granted that everything would just be okay when were together again."

"Why?" Papyrus asked, correcting himself before Sans could actually answer "I mean, why were we apart? Why weren't we raised together this time?"

"'cause the son of a bitch who's supposed to be our father doesn't like you." he replied honestly "he tried stopping you from being born so many times, but he couldn't. you and i are a constant - when there's a sans, there has to be a papyrus too."

"Why doesn't he like me? What did I do?"

Stars, the look on his face was breaking Sans heart. How like Papyrus to think that what the bastard did was somehow his fault.

"you didn't do anything, bro. it's just..."

Sans considered his words carefully, shuffling where he sat to better look at his baby brother.

"you and i weren't just brothers." he started, unsure of how to fully convey the sheer enormity of what their relationship had been "we were best friends. a team. a package deal. i always thought there couldn't be one without the other, and the whole damn universe agreed! all my weaknesses - and i got a lot of them - well, they were your strengths. we were... shadow and light, yin and yang... fuck, i practically raised you! you were my everything, bro..."

Those bright orange tears appeared again, but Papyrus didn't say anything, just listening intently.

"i think..." Sans went on "i think gaster stopping seeing me as a person a long time ago."

His heart stung, dredging up all the things he'd tried to forget, drown with alcohol and lose to the mists of time. It never really left him, though, always hanging around the back of his mind like a fog.

"he wasn't always like this." he admitted to Papyrus "he used to be a good person. a good father... i don't know how or where he got the reset power from, but at first he used it to help us... help all monsters. to stop... wars, to stop us getting trapped underground, to better prepare for unavoidable disasters. he cared about doing the right thing... he cared about us."

Sans could still remember when they had been a happy family, building snowmen together, drinking hot chocolate and building blanket forts in the living room. What happened to that man he used to know? The man who seemed to treasure his children and time he spent with them more and more with each reset? The man with the warm smile and sensible advice...

"something changed." he remembered "he changed. it was a little bit at first... if a debate wasn't going the way he wanted, he'd reset the day and do it over so he'd be better prepared. he'd reset again and again until he got his way. he treated it like a joke... a game..."

A flash of yellow crossed his minds eye. A smiling face and red eyes. The glint of a knife. He knew that person, but as soon as the thought crossed his mind, it disappeared again.   

"we're all just players in his game now." Sans concluded "i think... i can't prove it, but i think he resents you for taking my love and attention away from him."

Like a fucking child.

Papyrus's face was the picture of conflict, torn between hating his father and feeling sorry for him, clearly pathetic creature that he was.

"i'm just a trophy to him now." Sans said "something to be owned, kept on a shelf and admired. to tell him how clever he is, then go away..."

His little brother chewed over the information carefully, eyes darting to and fro.

"What about our m-mother?" he asked "Where is she? D-Doesn't she care ab-bout any of this?"

"wish i knew." Sans replied honestly "she died when i was young. in some timelines... better timelines... you were still a babybones."

"And in b-bad timelines?" Papyrus pried.

Sans thoughts immediately spun back to _that_ timeline. The last one. The one where the two of them had literally been more than brothers.

Papyrus didn't need to know about that.

"a random one-night stand." Sans shrugged "someone he worked with, maybe. it didn't really matter - you always found a way to come into our lives."

Papyrus quirked a smile, amused at the mental image.

"This was really the f-first time we were apart?" he asked "Even through all these resets?" 

"the very first." Sans confirmed.

"W-what was it like? Being an only ch-child?"

"the worst. i hated every second of it."

"Y-You never thought I was annoying?"

"of course, but that didn't matter. you were still my brother."

Papyrus let out an enormous sigh. There was a hint of desperation in his face, like he direly wanted to believe the things Sans was saying, but was too scared to. The taller skel fiddled with his hands.

"I... this is a lot to take in." he admitted "W-what if there's n-never another reset? What i-if this is i-it, and you're s-s-stuck with me l-like I am n-n-now? A pathetic wreck..."

That one hit Sans right in the soul, and the look on Papyrus's face confirmed that he truly believed that. Sans knew a thing or two about self-loathing, but luckily he knew a thing or two more about his baby brother.

"papyrus, i did six years of speech therapy with you when you were a kid to stop that stutter." he told him "i was the one who sat and helped you study every day when you were at school because you thought your dyslexia made you look stupid, and i was the one who sat with you in the doctors waiting room when your anxiety got too much to handle. and you know what? you were amazing then, and you're amazing now too."

Papyrus was flabbergasted, like he couldn't even comprehend what Sans was telling him.

"I n-n-never s-said anyth-thing about dys.... dys... _fuck_."

Sans chuckled, which seemed to startle his brother.

"you didn't have to. i _know_ you."

"But I don't know you."

"well, let's fix that." Sans suggested "ask me anything, i'm an open book."

Papyrus's mouth twitched, almost a smirk, suggesting that he didn't believe Sans for a moment. Maybe a part of him did remember him.

"If I'm so important to you, why have you been so focused on Sam the last three weeks?" he asked.

Ah.

Didn't even stutter.

The least Sans could do was reply honestly.

"because you're a constant." he began "you're always my brother. you're always you. i always know how to fix things with you... it's not like that with Sam."

"Then what is it like?" Papyrus pried, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees "Aren't you mates?"

"not this time." Sans told him with a heavy sigh, mirroring his posture "there were a few resets where we were together. hell, there were a few where we got all the way to our third wedding anniversary before the reset happened... but it did happen, and Sam forgot all about me..."

"But you kept trying?"

Sans could only nod, the bittersweet memories of lives long gone swirling coldly through his skull.

"you always met sam first." he went on "at work, at the gym... you ran them over with your car, once."

"No!" Papyrus gasped, making Sans laugh "Was it bad?!"

"luckily, no," he assured "a broken leg and some bruised ribs, i think."

"Goodness..."

"it wasn't always a good relationship." Sans admitted with a shrug "sam _hated_ me at first... but as the resets kept happening, things just seemed to change. our relationship got better and better every time... well, until last time."

"W-what happened last time?" Papyrus asked carefully.

"it was a bad timeline. not for everybody, but definitely for us. i was a drunk and an asshole... and of course that's the first timeline that Sam remembers..."

Sans was a little startled when Papyrus patted him sympathetically on the back, giving him a comforting smile. He didn't even need to say anything. No matter the timeline, Papyrus was always Papyrus.

"what else do you want to know?"

* * *

The brothers talked for a very long time. The more Sans said, the more Papyrus was able to believe what he was saying was the truth. He knew things about Papyrus he had never even said out loud, let alone mentioned to anyone else.

Still, it was a lot to take in, and Papyrus needed time to think. Once Sans had excused himself to go to bed, Papyrus sat in the darkness and silence once again. The crippling loneliness that had been haunting him was considerably dimmed, and thanks to Sans suggestions of what had worked in previous timelines, he felt more optimistic about his anxiety problem.

Thinking about timelines of course made him think about resets, which led him to think about his... 'father'. Sans was always the older brother. Sometimes there was only one or two years between them, sometimes more. Was that really enough to make that man treasure Sans so much more than him?

Maybe. Papyrus had never even met Gaster, and he liked Sans more.

As he contemplated, Papyrus got up from the bed and went to the window, looking out over the lake.

Life bought you to many strange places, he thought, but he couldn't bring himself to regret the decisions he had made.

Movement outside the house caught his eye, so he leaned closer to the window. On the shore of the lake, Stretch and Kei were dancing. It was high speed, with lots of spinning and jumping. Stretch hadn't seemed like the dancing type, let alone so energetically, but it looked like he was having fun.

A thought occurred to him - he had never even seen those two talk to each other, let alone be on dancing terms. They were already so close  ~~because Kei hadn't locked herself in her room for the past three weeks~~... Stood under a tree nearby, Edge watched the two with his arms crossed. BB sat in the ground beside him, bopping along to music Papyrus couldn't hear from here. It didn't look like they were going to bed any time soon...

Maybe... Maybe Papyrus would go join them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me after editing the Papyrus part: wow, that's depressing...  
> Also me: doesn't do a damn thing about it.


	17. Felix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, folks.
> 
> I don't really have an excuse at this point...

He was born.

Aside from having a full head of bright red hair, he was an unremarkable baby.

When he was eighteen months old, his junkie parents overdosed in their living room. If not for the upstairs neighbours complaining about the smell, he would have starved to death before being found. With no other relatives to speak of, he was left in the care of his grandmother, a very loving, but extremely dim woman who proceeded to make the exact same mistakes with him as she had with his father. 

He went to school. He didn't excel at any particular subject, and left with no qualifications. He had his group of friends, most of which got into crime and drugs, having children with several different people and not paying a single penny for any of them. He smoked his first cigarette, lost his virginity, and overdosed on the same drug that killed his parents in the exact same place - behind the bike sheds at his middle school.

He died having lived a completely unremarkable life, achieved nothing, and mourned by very few.

He was born.

This was understandably confusing. He had never considered himself a spiritual person, so it didn't occur to him that being reincarnated in the exact same life as before wasn't how that was supposed to work.

Being a baby was incredibly frustrating, but at this point he had taken enough drugs in his past life that the lack of senses and bowel control weren't completely alien to him. He half expected that this whole thing was a bad trip, and he was waiting to come down. Any second now...

When he was eighteen months old, his junkie parents overdosed in their living room. If not for the upstairs neighbours complaining about the smell, he would have starved to death before being found. With no other relatives to speak of, he was left in the care of his grandmother. Upon seeing her - the only caregiver he could remember, and only source of unconditional love in his brief life - he couldn't help but cry, so overwhelmed with love and gratitude towards her. She made the exact same mistakes as before, but he found it easier to let it go, knowing she genuinely was trying to do her best for him.

He went to school. He enjoyed being a child again, being able to break rules and play games without consequences. It was great being with his friends again. He didn't excel at any particular subject, and left school with very few qualifications. He got a job at a supermarket, which wasn't great, but better than the nothing he had done in his previous life.

On the day he was supposed to overdose and die, instead he left work late to meet up with his partner for dinner. On the way, he met one of his friends from school, who asked him for money for buy drugs. Not having any to spare with his low salary, he refused.

His friend stabbed him to death then and there.

He was born.

His first conscious thought was ' _what the fuck_.'

Having been relatively sober in his past life, being a baby was even more frustrating. He could barely see, barely hear, every movement was difficult and jerky.

When he was eighteen months old, his junkie parents overdosed in their living room. If not for the upstairs neighbours complaining about the smell, he would have starved to death before being found. With no other relatives to speak of, he was left in the care of his grandmother. This time, he was able to see how sad the whole affair really was - his parents had been younger than him when they died. They still had so much promise... His grandmother was concerned that he didn't cry and play like normal babies, but the doctors assured her there was nothing wrong with him. He was just a quiet baby.

He went to school. Upon seeing the friend that had stabbed him to death, he immediately punched him in the face. The blameless six year old boy was understandably confused, and immediately started to cry. He was sent to the corner to think about what he had done. Perhaps being murdered by someone he had once considered his friend had given him some perspective, but he just couldn't see any of them the same way this time. Despite having grown up together, none of them had actually 'grown up', had they? Stuck in some kind of protracted adolescence, dying one by one from drugs, careless driving, and crime, until all that was left were the young children that would inevitably follow the exact same, awful path.

Without the same friends he had before, he did a little better as school. He didn't excel at anything in particular, but overall he did well.

In middle school, one of his classmates went missing. He vaguely recalled that this had happened before, but it hadn't left much of an impression. He left school with decent enough qualifications, and got a job at a call centre. It was harder to find a romantic partner this time, but at least his flat was nicer, and the pride that shone out of his grandmothers eyes when she looked at him could have illuminated the darkest cave.

On the day he was supposed to overdose, or get stabbed, he went out with his workmates. Having drunk a little too much, he stumbled into the street and was hit by a car.

He was born.

His first conscious thought was 'FUCK'.

He used the time he was a newborn to do a lot of thinking. If this was going to happen again, he was going to try and change things this time. Perhaps if he got it right, this nonsense would stop.

When he was eighteen months old, he hid his parents drugs. It was difficult with his limited movement skills, but from his vantage point he found hiding places they would never see. Upon finding their stash missing, his parents fought in a way he'd never seen in his lifetimes. His father, strung out on drink and drugs, accused his mother of stealing from him, cheating on him, you name it, before he beat her to death in front of his horrified eyes. Seconds later, he was picked up.

He was born.

He wasn't going to do that again. Sad as it was, he let them die. He'd figure it out next time.

He went to school. For the first time, he fully appreciated exactly how stupid he had been that first time around. He realised, finally, that a child's infinite ability to learn still applied to him, even with his adult consciousness. He excelled at his school work, and was easily at the top of his class.      

In middle school, one of his classmates went missing. He remembered it more clearly this time, and was hit by a pang of guilt. He could have stopped that...

Next time.

He went to university to study history. It was just a local, no-name institution, but it was better than he had ever managed before. Unable to secure a job after graduating, he went back to working at the supermarket. He hadn't really liked the call centre, anyway.

On the day he was supposed to overdose, get stabbed, or be run over, he instead decided to go to the beach. A herd of cows had somehow made their way onto the tracks, their solid bulk causing the train he was on to derail, killing 93 people, including him.

He was born.

He took the time to burn all the most important dates into his mind. The date his parents died, the date he died, that kid who went missing.

As soon as he could hold himself upright long enough, and his tongue was formed enough to say enough words, he called his grandmother and asked her to come get him. He didn't want to wait around for his parents to die again. Needless to say, this caused an awful row with his parents, who couldn't believe their baby had made such a request. The police were called, and he was forcefully removed from the home. Three months later, his father died from the expected overdose. His mother did not, the shock of having him taken away exactly the jolt she needed to sober up, but she still wasn't allowed to see her child. He was put in his grandmothers care, as expected.

He went to school. Once again, he used his developing brain to his advantage - he wasn't yet intelligent enough that he would be moved to a better school, but for the first time he was switched to the smart kids class. It was during register that one particular name caught his attention, but it took him a couple of days to remember where he'd heard it - the kid who went missing in middle school. He payed close attention to them, seeing if he could figure out what would cause their disappearance. They were a pretty nondescript kid, wouldn't stand out in a crowd at all. Their family seemed nice enough, and they had a brother in another class. Always had lunch, and clean clothes, never dirty or bruised. A little reserved, perhaps, a bit insular, but otherwise completely normal.

"What are you staring at?"

He startled - he hadn't realised he had been staring, quickly busying himself with the project before them.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to stare." he said honestly "I was just thinking about something."

"Is it my glasses?" they asked, adjusting them self-consciously.

"I like your glasses." he assured them "They're really cute."

He didn't mean anything by that. In his mind, he was fast approaching a triple-digit age, and was finding it harder and harder to communicate with the kids around him in a way they would understand. Even so, the kid blushed and looked away.

In middle school, the kid went missing. This time, he found out that their brother had gone missing as well. One of their brothers friends killed himself shortly after. Any rumours about the event were quickly squashed by the school.

He went to university to study economics. It was incredibly boring, but he figured he had a better chance of getting a job afterwards. He ended up at the supermarket again, but this time in a management position. He booked off the day his death day, but thanks to a bout of flu going around he was forced to go in. He was shot in an armed robbery.

He was born.

He always fucking hated his manager.

Seeing that there was still hope for reaching his mother, he tried to convince her to stop taking the drugs. Perhaps being pleaded with by a child only just old enough to talk was too much for a fragile mind - she hung herself from the light shade. Overcome with grief, his father overdosed on purpose. Another failure. He called his grandmother to come get him.

He went to school. This time, he was placed in the advanced class right away. Perhaps, if he was better friends with the kid that went missing - real friends, rather than just classmates - he would have a better chance of helping them. Spying them sat in a corner reading a book a few grades above what they ought to be capable of, he made a bee-line for them the first chance he got.

"Hi, my name's Felix!" he greeted, startling the child "What's yours?"

The child opened their mouth to reply, then seemed to think better of it, adjusting their glasses.

"Sam." they replied quietly.

"You and me are gonna be best friends!" he declared, plopping down beside them "What are we reading?"

Sam was a difficult child to get to know - they rarely spoke, almost never played, and was reserved to the point that he started to wonder if there was something wrong with them. Every now and then they would show genuine childish excitement or interest in something, only to clamp it back down moments later. Almost like they were doing it on purpose, monitoring every word and action. But why?

Regardless, he kept trying, and little-by-little Sam opened up to him, until the two could genuinely be called friends.

That didn't stop them going missing. Right on cue.

Genuinely heartbroken, he didn't want to wait around to try again. He took his own life a week later.

He was born.

There was a surprising change of script when his grandmother came pounding on the door, demanding to see him long before the 18 month mark. She cried uncontrollably as she held him, telling him about the horrible nightmare she had had where he had killed himself, and how traumatising it had been to find his body. He vowed right then to never kill himself again. If even a little piece of his life before remained... he couldn't do that to the woman who had given him everything.

Her sudden appearance caused his parents to argue. His mother packed up and left, never to be seen again. His father had drunk himself to death before he started school.

It was easier to make friends with Sam this time, now he knew the things that interested them. The two of them became the very best of friends, always together, and when the day came, no-one thought twice about him asking Sam to sleep over at his place. Late that night, Sam got a phone call, and no amount of pleading could stop them from leaving.

He never saw them again.

This time, he became a policeman, hoping to find some clue as to what had happened. He was killed trying to help contain a prison riot.

He was born.

He let his parents die. He was tired of giving them chances, only to watch them fuck up time and time again.

His friendship with Sam was fast and strong. He knew what they liked, and he knew how to get it for them. 

It was in this timeline that he started to realise how easy it was to manipulate the people around him. Embarrassingly, it was far easier to get the adults to do what he wanted than the children - children always asked questions, always wanted to know why. Adults, though? The more 'above' him they thought they were, the easier it was to manipulate them. Play to their ego, find their weaknesses. It took a lot of trial and error, and a lot of adults calling him 'cheeky', but little by little he got better.

When that night came around again, he tried to convince Sams mother to let him stay over. She had point blank refused, and all his usual tricks only made her angry.

The next day, the whole family had once again disappeared, and he still had no idea why.

Things got a little fuzzy after that. Being born. Waiting. Learning. The friendship. The disappearance. His death at a young age. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

"You okay, Felix?"

Snapped out of his thoughts, he turned to Sam, who was sat on the railing drinking a juice box. They were both too old for them by now, but he was well beyond caring about such things.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he asked.

"Because you have that look on your face like you're a million years old." Sam said with a laugh, hoping down and poking him between the brows "You're going to get wrinkles."

Looking into the eyes of the person he knew the best in the whole world - the one he was sure by now was his soulmate - something inside of Felix broke. 

"Can you keep a secret?" he asked quietly.

Sam sobered immediately, nodding seriously.

"Of course." they swore.

And he told them. Everything. Living over and over, trying to save them over and over, everything he could think of. At the end, Sam was very quiet.

"I... _believe_ you." they told him eventually "But... I need to go. Somewhere. Now. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Without another word, they practically ran away. Felix didn't know what to think.

That was the night Sam disappeared, a full six months before they were supposed to. With a heartbroken sigh, he knew not to tell them next go round.

After graduating university, he got a job at a bank, and made himself a good amount of money. It was something to do, as he passed the time waiting to die.

One day, after checking out a potential business investment for his superior, he found himself caught in a sudden downpour of rain. Completely unprepared, he sprinted for the closest building - a quaint little bookshop built under the arches of a railway bridge. The skeletal thin woman at the counter gave him a dirty look, like he was interrupting her chain smoking, but said nothing by way of greeting. He doubted this place made much money, but kept his opinion to himself as he silently waited for the rain to stop, watching it through the doorway.

"Wow, it's really coming down out there."

He looked around at the voice, far too young and friendly to be the woman at the counter, and his breath caught. His brain could hardly believe what it was seeing.

"Sam?"

Alive. Grown up, but very much alive. He'd know that face anywhere.

"Felix?!" they gasped, almost dropping the mugs of hot tea they were carrying.

This. Changed. EVERYTHING.

If he thought their relationship was close as children, that was nothing compared to how it was as adults. Sam put up a token resistance to his presence, but caved quickly, just happy to have a friend around again. Finally, he found out _why_ they kept disappearing - because their parents were on the run from something, and thanks to his warning they were all able to get out alive before they were found.

He finally had his answer. He finally managed to save Sam.

Nostalgia became familiarity. Familiarity became intimacy. It wasn't until his next birthday that he realised he had passed his death day by over seven months, so caught up was he with their new relationship. He could finally connect to Sam on an adult level, and the two of them shared everything. They even talked about getting married, having children.

He was born.

What the fuck had happened?! Everything was fine! Had he died in this sleep?!

He tried again, doing everything as much the same as he could. When the night came, he stayed awake, monitoring his pulse, looking out for the start of a fire, a gas leak, a freak meteor falling from the fucking sky...

He was born.

Nothing had happened. He hadn't died, but everything had started over again anyway. Why? Why? WHY?!

His mother, uncharacteristically concerned about her infant sons obvious unhappiness, took him to see a doctor. That was the first point that he realised something was different. For a start, the nurse wasn't human. He was only just able to see clearly at this point, but he didn't need to to see the bipedal deer with long blonde hair was odd.

This was the first timeline he experienced with monsters. He told Sam, of course, but they didn't believe him, said the monsters had always been around, and did he hit his head?

It wasn't until they were celebrating his 16th birthday that it occurred to him – Sam hadn't disappeared this time. He had been so preoccupied with figuring out the whole monster thing that he had forgotten to warn them, but they were still around... why? How?

He was born.

As much as he had gotten used to it, the timing of it was off. It wasn't his early death, which always occurred on the same day, or his later death, which he still had no answer for. Why had it happened then? He couldn't even claim he had died, he had just been sat in class trying not to be too bored with it all.

He was born.

He was born.

He was born.

It seemed to be happening completely at random, and it was very inconvenient.

He was born.

He was born.

He was born.

The changes were so subtle, it was difficult to notice at first. His parents flat got a little bit nicer. They became more attentive. Their clothes were cleaner. Eventually, it hit him like a sledgehammer to the face – they were sober. With every one of these random... rewinds? He supposed he ought to have a name for them. With every rewind, things got a little better, until both his parents were sober, employed, and had a good relationship with his beloved grandmother. How had this happened? He hadn't even done anything to make it happen, all his previous efforts had been wasted on them...

His loving, attentive parents realised quickly how smart their son was, and got him a scholarship at a local private school before he even had his first day. His first thought was of Sam – they would be all alone without him! They didn't have anyone else!

But... well... they could always meet as adults. He hadn't done that before, without knowing each other as children first. What would that be like? It would be...

_New._

He learned many things at this fancy private school. Mostly, he learned he could be lazy. The better someone thought they were, the lazier he could be. Tell them what they want to hear, show them what they expect to see. They won't even look that close. The second was that it didn't matter how smart you were, or how hard you worked – who you knew was more important that what you knew.

Fresh out of university, he got a high-ranking job at the same bank he had so many years before, his former position so far below him that he had no idea who even had it. It helped that his old school friend was the son of the owner.

When he was tired of being single, he took the day off, dressed up nice, and went to the bookshop. Sure enough, there was Sam. A bit more serious this time, a bit more reserved, but still the same. It took a couple of trips to the bookshop for them to agree to go on a date with him, but the love affair that followed was more intense than anything he had ever known. He knew so much about Sam, and they gelled so easily, they had to be soulmates! Right?

Right.

Maybe they didn't need to be friends as children after all...

He was born.

He was getting tired of this now.

He was born.

Just when he was finally getting somewhere...

He was born.

It would all just start again. His life seemed to go a little bit faster every time.

He was born.

He was a banker.

He was born.

He was an inventor.

He was born.

He was a stockbroker.

He was born.

He was an architect. He was an adventurer, a fashion designer, a breeder of rare orchids.

He was born.

He was bored.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

He looked around at Sam. As usual, they were reading a book, lounging on a sofa that cost more than the flats he had grown up in.

“Just thinking about the rewinds.” he told them “Why they keep happening.”

“It really bothers you, doesn't it?” Sam sympathised, having heard this story many times.

(Many, many, many times...)

“I just want it to end.” he admitted “I just want to be able to enjoy the life I worked to build, you know? Have children knowing I'll be able to watch them grow up. Grow old. Make a mistake that actually means something, you know?”

“I don't.” Sam admitted, putting their book away and walking over to sit on his welcoming lap “But I can see how much it hurts you. Is there anything I can do?”

“Just stay with me.” he requested, putting his arms around them “I can't do this again without you.”

A couple of months later, Sam bought him a file – research into the rewind phenomenon throughout history. For the first time, he had some kind of proof of what he was saying.

He was born.

He was a historian this time, digging up anything he could find. Sam was an excellent research assistant.

He was born.

If there was so much evidence throughout history, then he wasn't the only one who could remember, right? There had to be others in the same situation as him. He reached out on internet message boards, private ads in newspapers, paid articles in magazines.

At first, he got very little response. Until a certain date, after which a lot of people were suddenly very interested indeed. He made a note of when that was.

He was born.

That date came, and the messages arrived again. People were confused, scared. They needed answers. They needed help. No-one ever remembered as much as he did, so it was really his responsibility to help them, right?

He was born.

He spent the time up until that date preparing – money, land, evidence, anything those people... his people... would need.

He was born.

Not all the evidence was needed. Obscure stuff that no-one looked at he didn't bother with any more, sticking with the more popular stuff. He took special notice of those who were the ~~easiest to manipulate~~ most dedicated to the cause, and made sure to remember them for next time.

He was born.

The more proof he had, the easier it was to convince Sam of his claims. Sam had always been a doer, a fixer, a problem solver. He didn't need to ask them to go out into the world and find more evidence, they did it all by themselves. Everything they bought back, he memorized, so they wouldn't have to start again.

He was born.

They were sure by now that one of the four royal monsters was behind the rewinds, but with them all being so magically powerful it was near impossible to tell which one. Sam thought it was logical to start with Gaster, since his knowledge of science would give him an advantage over the others.

He was born.

He had stopped noticing the changes in society, so far removed was he from the average person. When things were good, when they were bad, it didn't matter to him. He knew exactly what he needed to do to get where he needed to be, and that's what he did.

Gaster had a couple of children – grown sons, but children nonetheless. Felix was too well known thanks to his work with the Recallers to get close to them, but Sam wasn't. The younger son had so few friends, it was easy for them to integrate into his life.

He was born.

Sam's undercover work continued. They got lots of useful information about Gaster.

He was born.

Sam's undercover work continued. They started referring to the rewinds as 'resets'.

He was born.

Sam... already knew the skeletons before he met them.

He was born.

Sam already knew the skeletons. It was difficult to convince them of the legitimacy of his cause.

He was born.

Sam refused to listen to him.

He was born.

Sam was downright hostile, telling him in no uncertain terms to never contact them again.

He was born.

Sam was married to the older brother. _Married._

He was born.

He was born.

He was born.

The tea was good. Dull as he was, Asgore really knew how to make good tea. The monster king fiddled with the end of his cloak, a picture of discomfort. Toriel refused to look at anyone, arms tightly wrapped around herself as she stared out of the window.

“...Are you sure there's no other choice?” he finally asked.

“It's not a case of if, it's a case of when.” Gaster told him, putting his teacup daintily on its saucer “Weaver and the heir are extremely dangerous. We've tried doing it the right way, Asgore. There is no other choice now.”

Asgore looked at him, big eyes pleading for another answer. Felix put his teacup on the table, leaning forward seriously.

“I didn't want it to end this way either.” he assured “Magician or not, they're still human. I hoped we could achieve peace, but... you need to think about your son. The heir _will_ kill him, and the war we've all been trying so hard to avoid will start. If we allow her to reach her full strength, she won't need six other people to seal you away.”

“How do we know they'll come for Asriel?” Toriel asked, still not looking at them “What proof do we have?”

“That's just how humans are.” Gaster reminded her “How they think.”

The scientist got up from his seat, walked over practically silently, and placed a supportive hand on her shoulder.

“You know that.” he finished.

She didn't even look at him, but stormed out of the room and slammed the door closed behind her. A bad idea, as it left Asgore to make the decision alone.

“I... I can't...” he breathed, shuddering.

“You don't have to.” Gaster assured him, holding his shoulders like an old friend “I'll handle everything. I'll take all the sin on my soul. All you have to do is sign it.”

Felix took the paper and pen from his briefcase, sliding it over the table towards him. Asgore looked horrified at the mere sight of it.

“It's the right things to do.” Gaster assured him, pressing the pen into his paw “For Asriel.”

The massive boss monster shook like jelly in an earthquake. He squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to look at what he was signing. Felix snatched it away the second he was done, not giving him time to change his mind.

“Leave everything to me.” Gaster assured again, getting up from his perch “This time next week, this will all be a memory.”

With no further ceremony, the two of them left. Gaster looked over the contract only long enough to ensure everything was signed in the right place before giving it back to Felix, who filed it back in his case.

“How long until you can get the materials ready?” the scientist asked.

“As soon as the ink is dry.” he bragged.

Gaster huffed in satisfaction.

“And the 'leak'?”

“Just waiting on a text.”

“Send that in time for the morning news.” Gaster ordered him “I want complete media saturation by 9am.”

“You underestimate the 24 hour media if you think it's going to take that long.” Felix pointed out.

Despite their conspiracy, Gaster looked at him in nothing but disgust.

“I'll never understand how easily you humans can turn on each other.” he said “It almost makes me wander if you even realise what we're doing.”

“It's difficult not to.” Felix assured.

His tone must have been off, however, as it only caused Gaster to sneer at him again. Without even a goodbye, the skeleton walked off. Felix made sure his bag was securely closed before taking out his phone to get the various balls rolling.

The execution order would remain safe in his briefcase for now.

  
  


 


End file.
